Receiving a Blade
by Yama0
Summary: Brought back from the gates of death by a princess and her mother, the Lord's Blade was told of their plight. And yet, despite being saved, she was not compelled to aid them. And yet still, she found herself unable to abandon them in their time of need. So she thought of her knight, pondering what he would do in her place... A silly thought. She knew exactly what he would do.
1. Chapter 1

**A rewrite of my original idea. Still the same premise of Charlotte(Tabitha) summoning Ciaran while still in Gallia though the start is changed. I just also used Anne as Charlotte's mother's name since I can't find her name in the LN, it's always 'Duchess Orleans' or 'Madame Orleans'. And since there isn't all that much information about Gallia characters, I'm going to have to use OCs to fill the gap. They probably all come from the Three Musketeers as well though.**

* * *

The knight in black and blue teetered along the cobblestone steps. One hand clenched tightly around a golden blade whilst the other clamped to her side, blood seeping past the armoured fingers and staining the floor in a long trail of red. From behind its curtain of clouds, the sun gazed upon her, lazily seated on its unreachable throne in the sky.

If she didn't know any better, she might have taken it as some symbolic gesture from her lord. Alas it was naught but a foolish notion now. Her lord was lord of sunlight no longer and he ruled naught but cinder. Had she the breath, a chuckle may have escaped her at the queer pondering of her mind. Certainly, now was an odd time to be reminiscing of the past.

Another step and her legs violently shook in protest, threatening to collapse under her if she persisted. Her own body was betraying her as it desperately wanted rest, demanded it even! But though her body was failing, her mind remained clear as a crystal. She could not stop now. Not when she was this close. So, so close.

And with the next step upwards, her body followed through with its threat as her left leg buckled under the strain. She fell to the side, the mossy wall greeting her sinking form with its cold hard embrace. Already numb with pain, the impact prompted only a quiet grunt at most. Slumped against the wall, she took a moment to regain her balance.

From behind her porcelain mask, dull eyes gazed ahead to spy her destination. A coliseum, or the dwindling ruins of one. Now, it was a mere shadow of its former glory. Its walls overtaken by nature, deep gouges and splashes of blood decorating its floors. And despite the sun illuminating it entire interior with its glowing radiance, a dark and sorrowful atmosphere hung over it. Though, she supposed the same could be said of all of Oolacile.

Tensing her shoulder, she propelled herself off of the wall and weakly stumbled up the next step. A large smear of crimson left behind on the wall, an unwelcome reminder of the severity of her wounds. She paid it only a moment's attention. There was little time to be wasted.

Several steps later and she found herself standing before the entrance; the old archway leading into short passageway absent half of its stone blocks. Unstable as it appeared, she could only pray that it did not collapse atop her as she traversed underneath it. All this effort to arrive her at this destination, only to be crushed by falling rocks. It would make for a rather pathetic tale. The Lord's Blade Ciaran slain by rocks. Ornstein would have fit upon hearing it.

Still... she made it through without incident and as she shuffled onto the paved arena grounds; a deafening high pitch bark echoed across the stands and filled her ears. Formerly huddled away in a corner, the great wolf Sif bounded across to happily meet her. Within mere seconds Sif was upon her, the wolf prancing around her and whining in jubilation.

"S... Sif." Ciaran gasped out, her lips tugging upwards into a slight smile upon seeing him fine and without injury. A hand was gingerly raised to tenderly stroke the soft fur of Sif's neck, the wolf inclining his head to accommodate her hand. She maintained her stroking for what might have been minutes, ceasing only when she noticed she had left ugly streaks of red across the silvery hair though Sif seemed to not mind. His gleaming golden eyes looking up to meet her own. "I... told you... I... would come..."

Her words trailed off as Sif suddenly let loose an unhappy whine and lightly prodded her side with the tip of his snout. She involuntarily flinched away from the unexpected contact, a shiver of pain striking her body. This provoked a second whine, this one crawling with misery. No doubt, Sif had noticed the severity of her wounds. He had always been smart like that. Far, far smarter than others of the same breed. And he had realized that she was beyond saving. There was none nearby that could heal her wounds and she, herself, lacked the energy to cast any healing miracles. Death was all that awaited her now. And with her gone... Sif would be all alone. After all, his master was also... "So... sorry Sif..."

Fatigued eyes shifted their view beyond Sif to the small rudimentary grave lying in near the centre of the coliseum. Crafted from just a collection of meagre stones, she had planted a single daintily flower at its fore in remembrance of the man who had fallen on this spot... He deserved better. Rather than this shallow, unmarked grave, he should be buried with full honours and accolades within the shining halls of Anor Londo.

Using the last of her strength, she shuffled over to stand in front of the grave at a moderate pace. Sif treading carefully after her, mindful of her unstable steps. Such a good wolf he was.

And it was there, before the grave of Knight Artorias, that the Lord's Blade Ciaran collapsed onto her knees.

The end was nigh. A cliché manner to put her dire straits but true nonetheless. She warmly reached out and skimmed the surface of the grave of her stupid, stupid knight. A light smile formed at her lips as she recalled all the idiotic jokes he had told with her, the light hearted banter he shared with Gough and all the moronic arguments he had with Ornstein over the most obtuse things.

And he just had to play the hero. Look at where that had gotten him now? A bitter chuckle snuck out of her mouth. And yet despite his untimely death, she knew that, given the chance, he would rush back into the fight again if he had even the slimmest chance of saving Oolacile from the encroaching abyss. He was genuine model knight.

She limply sank down to her side and met the unfeeling touch of the rigid floor. Glistening eyes never losing sight of the grave. Another sombre chuckle escaped her. And if he was an idiot for playing hero then she was twice as dumb as him. Risking... or rather losing life and limb to rescue Sif from the darkness. Though she, at least, succeeded in her goal.

The thought put a light hearted smile on her lips. Definitely a thought to raise up with Artorias... if they ever meet again. Perhaps... in better life?

Fading eyes crept shut as the darkness of her mind began to envelop her. At the back of her head, she thought she could hear Sif howl but soon, that too, faded from her mind.

* * *

The noon sun shone high above.

The gem-blue pond glistened like glitter under its radiant gaze as the songs of the nesting birds carried pleasantly on the calm breeze. Sat upon a marble bench stashed away in a quiet corner of the palace's magnificent gardens, Charlotte d'Orleans savoured the cool air, having just escaped from the bustle of the dominated the rest of Versailles. A sizeable tome, a collection of tales and legends, was planted onto an ornate table. Breathing a long sigh of relief, she flipped open the cover, eager to begin and immerse herself into its stories.

"Good day Lady Orleans." A polite if pompous voice cut through her moment of calm like a hot knife through butter. Starting in surprise, she slammed the cover back down as she swivelled to meet the noble who had approached her with a wide smile. She had assumed that she had managed to keep her head down and escape the notice of the large party of noble; a mistake as it would turn out.

"Good day my lord..." she replied with a trained curtsey, trailing off to allow the noble to introduce himself

"Count Rochefort. A staunch friend and ally of your late father." the count loudly introduced himself on cue with a deferential bow. "I haven't seen you since you were still a small child. It is good to see that you've grown into a fine young lady."

"You flatter me." she returned with a timid smile, awkward with the praise. Deep blue eyes precariously scanned the older man, trying to find a match in her memory. It took a few moments of strenuous thinking for her to be rewarded. Count Rochefort was the guy that came to borrow some money that one-time last year. A snappy look at his chin confirmed he still had the funnily sharp beard on his chin.

"Not enough I would say and ah..." Rochefort's lips dithered for a split-second as he suddenly recalled what he had come here to say. Immediately, his bombastic smile ceased to exist as he spoke his next words in a low tone. "I am truly sorry for your loss Lady Charlotte. You father was a great man and will be deeply missed."

"Thank you lord Rochefort. We all will miss him." she impassively replied without missing a beat, taming down a frown that threatened to snap out. The same response, all the time. It was nearly automatic now given how often she had to say it. But no matter how annoyed she currently was, she had to present the proper image of a courteous noble just like... just like her father always taught her.

"Indeed. Your father was a grand man. A hero by all accounts! I am proud to have been close enough to call him a friend!" Rochefort exclaimed, one of his free hands apparently deciding now was a good time to stroke at his sharp beard. Charlotte simply nodded along, giving a few murmurs of agreement when prompted as the man went on and on with praises for her father and the grief he felt upon hearing his... his death.

Her hand tightly clenched at the edges of her book as the count rambled on. The voice and person may differ but the words and sentiments were nearly always the same. It would always be about close they were with her father and how amazing he was. Then, when they were nearing the end; they would say "I am always willing to provide whatever help you may need in these difficult times my lady. You need but call and I shall answer without fail."

She had heard the same offers before. Mother said they were all just 'hot air'. What that really meant, she wasn't exactly sure but she just assumed that it meant they were lying. It was probably right or close enough since mother never deemed to correct her. Even so, she was required to kindly reply just like how a proper lady would. "Thank you for your support my lord. I will remember your offer."

"No thanks are required and be sure to inform your mother as well." would be their reply. It would always be like that. The daughter of the Duchess of Orleans didn't really matter; they weren't talking to her because they wanted to. It was only when her mother wasn't available that they would even bother to approach her. She was just a vessel to pass on their message. "Ah! You will have to excuse me. I believe Duke Luynes is calling for me."

She, of course, heard nothing of the sort from the thundering crowd of nobles milling about in the gardens. However, just as eager to end this, naturally she replied "Of course Count Rochefort. Have a pleasant day."

"And you too Lady Charlotte." Another smile already creeping up to take root upon his lips as the count took his first step back away from her. And then in a flurry of quick strides, the count vanished back into the throngs of nobles. Rochefort's opulent form mixing right in with the extravagant noble personages and disappearing from her sight in seconds. Once she was certain that the man would not be returning, she let loose an irritated sigh.

Perhaps this Rochefort had really been a close friend of her father. She really had no idea. Her... her father always had a lot of friends. So many that they always had to hold meetings in a really big hall otherwise they couldn't fit in everyone. But then all she knew of Rochefort was that he borrowed some money. That... didn't really make them friends did it? Physically shaking the inquiry out of her mind, she shrunk back into her seat. She didn't know nor did she really care!

Turning back to her book, she fumbled over the cover and began to flip through the musty pages. Blue eyes skimming through its contents, her mind now distracted and uninterested in the otherwise fantastical stories. It was only when she realized that she had gone through about a third of the book in under a minute that she slammed the back shut again in disgust. Discontented, her desire to read had all be evaporated. But then what should she do?

Entertaining the fanciful idea of simply retreating back into the apartments reserved for her family, she made a few mock steps back in the direction of the palace. Then she recalled her other's stern warnings about doing exactly that. Not to mention that Percerin, the family butler, was probably still there as well and there was no doubt that he would tattle on her at the first opportunity. No; secluding herself in the apartments was a bad idea. She didn't want to get into trouble. But... maybe there were other places she could go to. Versailles was a really, really big place after all.

She would never have the chance to ponder any further as a familiar face popped out of the crowds. Wearing a simple yet dignified black butler uniform, Percerin waded his way through the crowd. With his greying hair and obvious subservient gestures, he stuck out like crazy in the midst of all the extravagantly dressed nobles. As he drew closer, she noticed that Percerin was swinging his head left and right like crazy, searching the crowds for a certain someone; probably her.

"Percerin! Over here!" she shouted out to him. Her tiny voice utterly failing to pierce through the volume of all the chatter. It was only when she began to frantically wave her arms up in the air that she finally managed to catch the eye of her butler. Using her flailing arms and distinctive teal hair as a beacon Percerin made a beeline for her, apologizing and making excuses to all those he bumped through along the way.

"Ha... ha... Miss Charlotte..." Percerin gushed out before bending over, hands clasped over his knees, and heaving in several deep breaths. His momentary breather was over in fast. Taking one final breath before straightening himself back up, he regained the regal poise of a proud, first-class butler. "Ahem. Your mother was searching for you Miss Charlotte. She asks that you return to the apartments as soon as possible."

"She did?" Charlotte asked in surprise. "Did she say why?"

"The madame did not specify." Percerin shifted uncomfortably before continuing, in a low voice. "However I will note that she appeared in great distress. I would urge you to hurry Miss Charlotte."

Her mother? In distress? What about? She was about to pose this very question to Perecin when she spotted yet another noble approaching them. Sporting a frown, she promptly grabbed her book and snapped off in the opposite direction. With Perecin pacing a proper distance behind, she made her way back to the palace at a brisk pace, the Orleans apartments her destination.

At the back entrance, two knights on guard bowed and bade her well. She weaved her way past the even thicker crowds that occupied the interiors of the palace. The few attempts of starting a conversation were all speedily declined in a way she hoped wasn't too disrespectful. Mother would probably growl at her if she ended up making more trouble for her by accidentally insulting some noble. Once she actually reached the living spaces of the palace, the differences were adamant. Compared to the rest of the palace, the apartments were abandoned in comparison though architecturally, they were certainly not inferior. The scant nobles they passed by were huddled in groups, too consumed in their own personal conversations to pay any notice to their passing. More commonly they saw various teams of servants, all too busy or cowed to offer more than a polite bow.

The deeper in the walked, the less and less servants they saw working and the more and more guards they saw patrolling. Of course, it should be no surprise to anyone. It only made sense that the apartments reserved for the royal family was more tightly guarded. Taking a sharp turn just before the apartments of the king himself, she found themselves walking towards a familiar room. A single commoner guard stood on guard, wearing a tabard sewn with the heraldry of the royal family, a fancy white line drawn atop the symbol denoting the Orleans family, the cadet branch of the royal family. The same said guard bowed slightly, informed them that the duchess was expecting them and then opened the door for them. Without further ado, he quickly ushered them into the room before shutting the door behind them with a solid thump.

"Mother?" Charlotte called out upon entering the luxurious room. Slumped into the comfiest chair in the room was her mother, her long hair crumpled up and a shadow cast over her usually pleasant face. At the sound of her voice, her mother burst out of the seat and frantically dashed over towards her.

"Charlotte! Charlotte, my daughter!" her mother gushed out as she wrapped her around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Taken aback, Charlotte gasped and fell into mute silence as she hesitantly returned the hug. Her worry drastically escalated when she sighted the wet tear marks staining her mother's cheeks.

"M... Mother? What's wrong?" Charlotte asked. Behind her she could hear Percerin discreetly exiting the room, intending to give the two of them a moment of privacy.

Her mother muttered her names a few more times before gently pulling back and fixed her with a forlorn stare. "Charlotte... you know I love you very, very much."

Charlotte gulped down at her mother's ominous words. Books weren't reflective of real life, she knew that. Yet what mother just said reminded her way too much if all those bittersweet tragedies. "W... what's wrong? Did something happen?!"

"N... It's nothing for you to worry about Charlotte." Her mother unconvincingly reassured her after a moment's hesitation. Directing her to the centre of the room, her mother continued. "I just need you to do a little thing for me."

"Anything!" Anything to make bring her mother's usual state back. "What do I need to do?"

Her mother gave her a sad smile that she couldn't understand before saying. "We're going to summon a familiar for you."

* * *

 _I, Charlotte Helene d'Orleans,_

She heard a voice. Sweet and young. Echoing across the darkness the smothered her.

 _In the name of the Five Great Pentagon Powers,_

She felt a tug. Gentle and comforting. Slowing drawing her back from the dark.

 _Following my fate, summon my familiar!_

Ciaran opened her eyes.

She blinked away the blurriness in her perception as light flooded into her eyes. Immediately noticeable was the absence of the shadowy insides of her mask. It left her feeling... unsettled.

The chilliness that had seeped across her body was no longer. Rather she felt... a literal blanket of warmth smothering her. Scanning her surroundings, she found herself in an extremely extravagant bed, equal to the one within her chambers in Anor Londo, the one she never uses. The rest of the room she found herself was no less expensive. Golden lining and frames for every piece of decoration, not a single wall left unadorned with either a painting or some marble carving. And one could only wonder how much work the admittedly beautiful mural drawn upon the ceiling had taken.

But there was perhaps a more question at hand; namely how she came to be here. She recalled dying within the coliseum within Oolacile, a very unpleasant experience. Then she had fallen unconscious and there was not a great deal that she could recall with that. And then...

She had heard a voice. A young female child, likely human as well. Charlotte Helene d'Orleans, it sounded like a name that belonged to aristocracy, the room she found herself in certainly supported that theory. There was some invocation in the name of 'five pentagon powers', powers that she had no recognition of. And then... she had been summoned, as a familiar...

It was a... interesting sequence of events if nothing else, extremely convenient and suspiciously well timed. She had heard of witch's that took upon the studious and long task of summoning and binding a familiar to their will. They were, however, few in number and the familiar summoned was, in most cases, not worth the difficulty in preparing the ritual. What was the chances that a witch decided to summon a familiar and summoned her just as she was about to perish? Evidently higher than she would have guessed.

But then where was her summoner of hers, this Charlotte Helene d'Orleans? Craning her head in both directions, she noted down the single entrance into the room. A single ornate door on her left, past a furnished lounge. What also didn't escape her notice was the large red smudge on the carpet, as if someone had tried to clean out the blood from it. She could only guess who had been the source of such a large stain. And further along, unceremoniously dumped upon a round table was all her equipment. That aside, there was nothing else of notable interest in sight and certainly no Charlotte.

And as if fate decided at that very moment to play her a fool, the instant she finished the thought was when the door slowly creaked open. In came two humans, one a woman and the other a child. Their appearance was remarkably similar, teal blue hair aside, it would not be too presumptuous to assume they were family. Mother and daughter most likely. And to match the room, their dresses were of the finest quality fleshed out with a plume of colours. The woman held the door open and spoke to someone unseen outside in a hushed voice before firmly shutting it, the audible click of a lock reaching her ear.

A thought flickered through her mind and she considered feigning sleep but she thought better of it. Any information she could learn from eavesdropping could be more easily learned with a more direct approach. She was almost certain that the pair was not hostile to her. Why bother going through the effort of saving her and leaving her unguarded and unchained like this if they were? …And if they did intend to kill her for some inscrutable reason, what has she to lose? She could not resist like this so all they have done was prolong her death.

With that in mind, she laboriously sat up on her bed, earning her gasps of surprise from the two humans. And whilst the presumed mother was retrained to just raising a hand to cover her gasp, the presumed daughter pointed an incredulous finger at her and exclaimed "You're awake!?"

It was shrill and loud compared to before but she recognised the voice. And it was thus she now knew for a certainty that the child was Charlotte, her summoner… She certainly did not match her preconception of witches and she had expected someone… older? Pushing away her pesky presumptions, she answered "Yes I am… And I believe I have you to thank for saving my life."

"M…me? Um… mother did most of the work. I just summoned you." Charlotte nervously stuttered at first before finishing on a more confident note when her mother placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Then I have both of you to thank." For she would have certainly died without their intervention. Though whether that was a blessing or not remained to be seen.

"About that," the mother spoke up and stepped closer. "Do you still feel any lingering pain or anything alike? I haven't healed anyone in years so I'm afraid I might have missed anything."

"I can no longer feel my injuries though I do feel… stiff." Ciaran admitted.

"That should be normal… I think." The mother said with a bit of uncertainty.

"You think?" That was not very reassuring and Ciaran briefly wondered if there was perhaps some part of her body that might have been healed wrong. Certainly something to check out later.

"As I said, I haven't healed anyone in years." The mother responded with a bit more force than she intended. Sheepishly clearing her throat, she dipped her head slightly and politely said "But where are my manners, my name Anne d'Orleans. Duchess of Orleans."

A squeeze on Charlotte's shoulder and the girl involuntarily squeaked before understanding the sign. With a quick curtsy, she introduced herself as "Charlotte d'Orleans."

"I am Ciaran." She said, paying close attention to their reaction. Introducing herself as the Lord's Blade always put others on edge more so than simply 'Ciaran'. It was really minor and anyone with knowledge and a brain could put the two names together. Though it would appear that it was unnecessary as neither of them reacted even the slightest. Perhaps her name was unknown to them? Not entirely surprising. She had always been the least known and least public member of the Four Knights of Gwyn.

"Well…" Anne muttered as the conversation faded out. "Charlotte?"

"Yes?" Charlotte immediately replied, a bit surprised to be called upon.

"Could you please fetch some water for Miss Ciaran? I'm sure she must be thirsty." Anne said in a manner that made it clear that the request was no less than an order.

"Eh? Couldn't Percerin do that?" Charlotte protested, naming someone Ciaran suspected was some servant, before slumping down in resignation when she met her mother's unrelenting glare. "…Yes mother."

With that, Charlotte slowly trotted out of the room. Backward glances met with silence and a hard look from Anne. Stepping out of the doorway, she cast one last look before slamming the door behind her with an audible bang in a not so subtle protest.

"Now… I'm certain you must be wondering why I had my daughter summon you." Anne spoke after waiting a minute in complete silence.

"The thought had crossed my mind." Ciaran admitted.

"Well, simply put; I needed someone to protect my daughter when I'm gone."

'When I'm gone.' Ominous words indeed. The Lady of Orleans did not bear the appearance of one in bad health nor was she near old enough to simply expire. But she was a member of human nobility and even if she did not recognise the kingdom, humans being humans, "Are you expecting an assassin?"

It was when the last word had left her lips did she realize the rather poor pun she had inadvertently made. It would be lost on the human but she was not usually this careless with her words.

"Not an assassin per se, but poison. Tonight to be exact. In a goblet meant for my daughter." Anne sheepishly acknowledged. "So you can see my urgency."

Yes, she could see the need for urgency but there was yet remained another question yet unanswered. "If you are aware of this, why have you not taken other measures to stop the poison?"

"It's... it's complicated." Anne hesitantly said. And after the silence that followed, she exhaled and slowly said "I should probably appraise you of the situation first shouldn't I?"

"Please."

"Well... to start, my husband was assassinated not too long ago by his brother, the King of Gallia."

"You have proof of this?" Ciaran half-heartedly asked her. With just that one statement from before she could already begin to see where this tale was heading. A paranoid king that had killed his enemies and was now cleaning up what remained.

"The bastard more or less admitted it straight to my face!" Anne hissed out before taking a pause. Utilizing this moment to recompose herself, she continued. "And now he's taken to threatening my daughter as well."

Which would explain why tonight's poison was intended for Charlotte though not how Anne is aware of the poison and why she intends to drink it rather than safely dispose of it.

"So I made a deal with him. My life for my daughters." Anne said with finality. "He'll leave my daughter in peace while I'm dead. Without me, Charlotte won't ever be a threat."

"Yet you have summoned me." Ciaran pointed out. From how it sounded, she was summoned to be insurance, assuming that this king would not uphold his end of the bargain. But if she expected him to fail his side, why bother with the poison in the first place?

"Well, I wasn't exactly planning on summoning you specifically." Anne tentatively revealed. "Honestly, I expected something... different."

Then that would the two of them. "An animal perhaps?"

"No, no. I doubt a familiar with the void element would be a simple animal."

Void element? Yet another term she was unfamiliar with. Was it perhaps related to sorceries? Articulating her question, she received a quizzical look from Anne.

"Hah, I suppose I should probably explain that as well shouldn't I? Essentially, Charlotte..."

Both of them immediately fell silent as a series of rapid knocks on the door reached their ears. Then through the door, "Mother! I'm back with some water."

"Charlotte's back." Anne hushed out to her. Fixing her with a solid look, she demanded "Not a single word to Charlotte."

Ciaran had no time to respond properly before the door was pushed open by an elderly human man. Underneath his arm was Charlotte, precariously balancing a jug and several goblets held aloft upon a silver tray. Clearing his throat, the human man announced "Lady Charlotte has returned milady."

The human's eyes then suddenly fell upon her as Charlotte bobbed passed underneath his arm. A mishmash of surprise and concern filling his face. Recognising this, Anne hurriedly bounded past Charlotte and leaned in close to the man. "You saw nothing Percerin. Is that understood?"

To his credit, this Percerin didn't question the order and immediately bowed deeply. "Understood milady. Just you and your daughter having a nice chat in your room and nothing else." And after receiving a satisfied nod from his mistress, Percerin slowly closed the door behind him with nary a second look.

Charlotte on the other hand gave her mother a worried look. After carefully filling the three glasses with water and passing one to each of them she asked "Mother… why are we keeping this a secret?"

Ciaran deigned to remain silent as Anne answered "Because you're not meant to summon a familiar this young. We'd get in trouble so we have to keep it a secret."

For a short time, an expression of understanding dawned upon the child's face. This dwindled quickly into another question "But then what did I summon Miss Ciaran for?"

Maria hesitated. Her façade of calm stumbling for just a moment before replying with "…I'll tell you tomorrow okay Charlotte?"

Ciaran suppressed a chortle at the answer. Given she planned to die tonight, it was certainly one way to avoid ever giving an answer. And she doubted it was a good idea to keep her daughter unaware of the dangers awaiting her at court. But… it was not her place to object, tempting as it was.

"But…" Charlotte uttered, obviously not satisfied with the answer.

"Tomorrow." Her mother repeated in a hard tone, leaving no room for argument from her daughter. In a posh voice, she said "Now, we need to prepare for dinner. It shan't be long now."

"…Yes mother." Charlotte dropped her argument, glumly holding down her head. A light flashed in her eyes as she then perked her face back up and asked "Can I talk to Miss Ciaran a little bit before we leave? Please? I haven't even gotten a chance yet."

Anne dithered over an answer, a careful eye warming over her, seeming unsure if she could trust her to keep her silence. Which was odd, really. Given everything else, she certainly appeared to trust the strange woman her daughter just summoned to keep her daughter safe. But then again, she also apparently trusted this kin-slaying King of hers to keep his word…

"That… will also have to wait till later I'm afraid. We should be off to dinner now." Anne finally decided with a light shake of her head. As Charlotte glowered in disappointment, her mother scrambled to find an excuse "Remember, this is Versailles. There is no stalling or being late here in the capital."

Charlotte, for a bit, seemed ready to argue before resigning herself to a defeated sigh. "I understand."

"Thank you Charlotte." Anne said. Taking her daughter by the hand, she led her towards the door. "Don't worry Charlotte. You'll see Miss Ciaran again soon. Then you can talk to her all you want."

"Alright…" Charlotte echoed agreement without much depth. Turning back, she raised her hand and gave a short wave. "Goodbye Miss Ciaran."

Ciaran lightly raised her hand and returned the gesture. "Farewell."

"Remember, I place my daughter in your hands." Anne called out to her just before she opened the door. And just before she closed the door, Ciaran could hear Charlotte asking what she meant. But whatever the reply may have been was quickly muted as they proceeded beyond the door and out of her hearing, leaving her, once again, in solitude.

Ah… what was she to do? Anne's plan reeked of desperation and she was almost certain Joseph would renege on their deal. Why shouldn't he? Their agreement was not the type to be public nor written, nothing to bind him in the least. She suspected that once Anne was dead; Joseph would quickly eliminate Charlotte in quick succession and that would be the end of her little summoner.

But who knows? She knew absolutely nothing about this King Joseph outside what Anne had told her. A single extremely bias source was a poor way of judging a person's character. Maybe he really does intend to keep his end of the deal.

Not to mention… her gaze turned to the door. She had neither agreed nor disagreed to protect her daughter. What was there to stop her from leaving? To returning to Lordran? The guards actually. However she could play along for now until there was an opportune chance to escape. With Anne dead, Charlotte would panic and likely wish to leave the palace. If not, she could persuade her of it and once they were on the road…

It would be a betrayal. A betrayal of the woman and daughter that had saved her life, accidental as it may have been. That unsettled her inside. Which was odd; betrayal was hardly an unknown concept to her. She's betrayed many that had placed their utter trust in her to complete the objectives set by her lord. Even now, if her lord ordered so; she would kill Anne and Charlotte without hesitation. Such was the duty of the Lord's Blade.

Except now she was a blade without a lord… and what did that mean for her now?

Softly sighing, she then chuckled slightly. She wasn't usually like this. Artorias's death had rattled her far more than she cared to admit. The thought of her knight brought a sad smile to her lips. And what if he had been summoned and saved rather than her? What would he have done in this mess?

A quiet laugh. What a redundant question. She knew exactly what that idealistic idiot would have done. He would save the princess as was proper for a knight. And though she may never be as knightly as him, she could at least imitate his ideals. That, she supposed, made her as much of idiot as him. An idea that did little to trouble her.

Charlotte needed to be protected and her greatest defence was not her but Anne. She had large doubts about Charlotte's ability in politics and intrigue. Not her fault really, she was but a child. It will have to be improved upon later but now was not the time. Once Anne died, Charlotte would be thrust onto the political stage and that would be akin to tossing a hare into a wolves' den. Right now, based on the information available to her, she believed that Anne's sacrifice would bring little benefit to Charlotte and would rather just invite her destruction in all the faster. And if nothing else, Anne staying alive would mean another warm body for her enemies to cut through first.

And then? What was to come afterwards? She needed to gather more information to plan ahead. Said plans would include neutralizing Joseph somewhere but first she needed to consolidate the Orleans position first. Assassinating a king would have its consequences and the Orleans would likely be the prime suspect. They would face retaliatory strikes from Joseph's allies and their new king or queen will likely be ill-disposed towards them. Hmph, hardly a minute since her resolution and she was already plotting regicide.

But the problem at hand was how to prevent Anne's death. She seemed resigned to it and she had no chance to persuade her otherwise now. That would mean she had to physically stop the poison… which was problematic. She had never been in this palace before and thus had no idea where the dining hall even was. And given what Anne had said earlier, she didn't have the time to waste trying to find it.

Lifting the blankets off of her body, she saw that the padding she had worn underneath her armour was replaced with a simple blue gown. They had likely changed her whilst she was still unconscious. Irrelevant in any case. She certainly wasn't going to wander the palace in her armour. She'd get at most a few steps before being stopped by some guard or servant. Hardly inconspicuous.

Swinging her body along, she let her legs fall to the ground and stood up with some effort. She stumbled forward a few steps, her hand smacking onto the table to steady herself.

This was troubling. As it would appear, even if she had been perfectly healed, the fatigue she had accumulated was still present. Wonderful. Not only was she limited in time but also she also risked collapsing at any moment. Just wonderful.

So as Ciaran hobbled for the door, her hands grasping onto any surface it could to steady herself, a new idea formulated in her mind. It didn't need to be her to stop the poison; there was that very loyal servant that had been just outside the door. It was risky. Not only to herself but also to Anne. So many things could go wrong. The servant, Percerin, could totally ignore her and bar her exit. He could also even fail at intercepting the poison. For all she knew, Percerin might not even be at the door! But she certainly had to try did she not?

And worse come to worse, she would have to find and steal clothes that would let her travel the palace without raising suspicions, preferably a servant's one. Then she just had to find the dining hall in what was likely a monster sized building. Once she did that, all she had to do was find Anne, correctly identify which servant was bringing the poisoned drink and then somehow make them drop the drink or otherwise make sure it never reaches Anne… she prayed this Percerin didn't follow after his mistress.

Leaning on the wall just beside the door, she reached down and turned the knob. Letting it swing in, she felt some relief to meet the eyes of the old servant, suspicious and wary. Looking her over, Percerin took a moment to clear his throat, an attempt to buy time to collect his thoughts.

"You are Percerin." Ciaran took the initiative, not leaving him time to speak first. "Loyal servant of the Orleans, are you not?"

"…I am indeed." Percerin warily answered after giving her a good measure. From behind him, another man stepped into view. Middle aged, battle scars, a firm hand fingering a sheathed rapier; the guard struck an intimidating posture which, she supposed, was intended to be threatening. Pretending not to notice the man behind him, Percerin elaborated "Served three generations of Orleans faithfully. My loyalty is not in question."

"Good." She said with a smile. "Then would you like the chance to save your mistress's life?"

* * *

Charlotte silently fumed as she followed after her mother through the dining chamber. All the servants and less important nobles giving way to let them pass. She barely noticed at all when she sat herself at her table, placed at the head of the chamber in a slightly elevated position.

All across the room were the gathered nobles of Gallia. Only those with the most pressing issues or otherwise occupied with other duties would be absent. The more prominent nobles usually seated around their political allies and stuff. And with every few nobles present; there were at the very least one servant attending them. Not to mention the over abundance of guards. Knights of the East Rose, West Lily and South Tulip, the three main orders of Royal Knights of the Parterres, were all present which was very rare since usually only one would be kept as palace guards at a time. Putting aside the crowds and doing the best to drone out all the noise; Charlotte sunk back into her own thoughts.

Her mother was keeping something secret from her. A really, really big secret. It was probably what made her so upset earlier but rather than tell her; mother decided to tell Miss Ciaran instead! She was sure of it. Why else would she send her away on such a menial errand? And then, the way that she insisted they leave for dinner; obviously done so she couldn't ask Miss Ciaran about it! Did her mother not even trust her own daughter? And, no offense to her familiar, but for what reason does Miss Ciaran get to be let in on the secret when she doesn't?

And then, just as they left, her mother said something really, really weird. _Leaving me in Miss Ciaran's care?_ Did she mean that Miss Ciaran was going to look after her once dinner was done? But wasn't the point of a familiar to look after their master? But then why would she say that? Maybe she was going to go on a long trip and had to leave her behind under Miss Ciaran's care? But then that didn't make sense since Percerin could always take care of her. Or maybe...

"Your meal Princess Charlotte." The voice from behind startled her a little.

Turning about to see the maid serving her pre-ordered meal, Charlotte said "Thank you for the meal."

She wasn't exactly sure but the maid seemed a bit surprised by her thanks. Which was a bit odd but there was no time to dwell as the maid quickly moved off. Shrugging it off, she swivelled to sneak a look at what her mother was having for dinner only to spot her very nervously scanning the crowds of people before them. Her fingers fidgeting with her utensils and playing with her food, not a single bit in. "Is there something wrong?"

Her mother started a bit and then gave her an unconvincing smile. "It's nothing Charlotte."

Charlotte frowned at the answer. She just didn't get it. There was obviously something wrong but again her mother won't tell her! "Are you sure? You look really… "

"It's nothing." Her mother repeated with a bit more force to her voice.

Charlotte angrily glared. And once again, even when there was something obviously wrong, her mother still wouldn't tell her! She was about to give an irate retort when a familiar face popped up behind her mother, from one of the many entrances to the hall.

"Percerin?" she softly said in surprise. The elderly man bore an odd expression and as their eyes met; he seemed extremely relieved for reasons unbeknownst to her.

But what was he doing here? Her mother left him behind to take care of Miss Ciaran just in case didn't she? If he was here... did something bad happen back at the apartments, then? A quick glance at her mother showed that she hadn't seemed to notice the presence of their butler. Rather, her attention was fixated on the maid that had served her food earlier; in the midst of coming back to their table with a tray of drinks. Her utensils down and her fingers intensely gripping at the edge of the table. Was there something wrong with the maid? Because if there was, she wasn't seeing it. What was going on?!

Looking back at Percerin for any hint, she blinked when she spotted the butler also following her mother's gaze. And then, coming to a sudden resolution, Percerin brushed through a number of people, ignoring their outcries as he strode towards the maid as fast he possibly could.

"Percerin?" Her mother echoed her earlier surprise with a short gasp as she too spotted their butler making straight for the unaware maid. "What is he… no!"

Excusing herself from those seated nearby, her mother shoved out of her seat and made to chase after Percerin, moving as fast as she could without running. There was definitely something going on… and she wouldn't be left out of it again! She wanted to share her whatever was burdening her mother so she wouldn't have to suffer it alone. And it was with that reasoning in mind, Charlotte followed in her mother's suit and left her seat.

"Mother?" she called out above the crowd as she pursued her mother. Her mother gave her an anguished over the shoulder look before silently turning her head away. Further ahead, Percerin, upon spotting mother getting closer, dropped all pretences of etiquette and made a dash for the maid.

"Percerin! Stop!" her mother now shouted, drawing curious eyes from all across the hall. The maid they were all going for also took notice and appeared supremely surprised as she noticed the butler that appeared to block her path.

"I'm afraid I must stop you. Princess Charlotte declined to consume any alcohol tonight." Charlotte strained to hear Percerin hurriedly say to the maid. Her mother was drawing closer now, her fast walk now breaking into a sprint. Or as much of a sprint a lady could do while in a dress.

"Pardon? But Lady Orleans was the one who personally requested the drink."

"Then there must have been some mishap for I know Princess Charlotte despises the wine and would gladly do without it."

"Are you certain? As…"

"Percerin! What are you doing?!" her mother cried out when she was but moments away.

"Ah! Duchess Orleans." The maid said. She was about to take a step towards her but Percerin immediately placed himself between the maid and her mother.

"Percerin! Step aside." Her mother furiously demanded, trying to bypass him to the side.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that Madame." Percerin coolly replied as he sidestepped to remain in between them.

"Mother!" Charlotte gasped out as she hurried into place behind her, lightly panting a bit from the run through all the jostle. All around them now, a small crowd of bystanders watched in curiosity. The hushed whispers and gossip of them spreading like wildfire across the hall. Taking a breath, Charlotte asked "What's going on mother? Please tell me. I want to help."

"You can help by returning to your seat Charlotte!"

"No! You keep brushing me off like that but I can help! I'm not a child anymore!"

"Then stop acting like a child and go back to your seat!" her mother shouted back much to her astonishment. As she stood there in shock, her mother swerved on her heel to face an unmoved Percerin, she furiously shouted "Percerin! I'll make certain you'll never serve the Orleans again for this."

"You would not have the chance if I budged Madame." Percerin icily replied, not the least bothered by the threat.

Her mother seemed stunned by the statement. The whispers around them grew louder. And then, in a voice barely audible at all "…She told you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Madame."

"E… Excuse me?" the now frightened maid squeaked out. Holding out her tray with the drink, she asked "W… What am I supposed to do with…"

"Give it to me!" her mother exclaimed as she shoved a hand past Percerin, fingers stretching to grasp at the cup.

Reacting far faster than any would ever give the old butler credit to, Percerin snatched the cup off the tray just as her mother's hand snapped around the space that it once occupied. Droplets of red wine splashing across the butler's sleeve. Unfortunately, his grip was not up to speed with his reflexes and the cup accidently slipped out of his hand. Its contents spilling all over the rest of his suit as her mother could only watch in stunned horror.

"What… what have you done?" her mother choked out, tears forming upon her eyes.

"Only what was necessary." Percerin said with a sad gleam in his eyes. He performed a small bow before saying "I will gladly bear any punishment for this Madame."

But the fiery anger from earlier did not reignite. Instead, her mother seemed to have withdrawn into herself and dropped down to her knees. Her hands trembling over the spilled wine.

"M… Mother?" Charlotte tried to attract her mother's attention as she hesitantly knelt down next to her. "Are you… are you okay?"

"…Charlotte." Her mother mumbled her name. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

It was this time that a group of knights pushed their way through the crowds and approached them in military step. All of them in the white regalia emblazoned with the Lily of the Sourthern Parterres. The two lead knights then split off a step in opposite directions to allow the most powerful man in all of Gallia pass. The rest of the knights spreading out to form a full circle around them, keeping them out of sight from all the crowd that had gathered.

"Uncle Joseph!" Charlotte called out as the King of Gallia walked towards them at a leisurely pace, an indifferent look upon his face. She hadn't seen her uncle in ages though he still seemed the same. A handsome face younger that his actual age, the same blue hair that was shared amongst those of royal linage. The only difference was that he now had a fluffy cape draped over his shoulders. Remembering the situation at hand, she appealed to him for aid. "Something's wrong with mother. Can you help us?"

Her uncle gave her passive look before broadly smiling. "Of course, of course. Anything for my favourite niece."

"I'm your only niece…" Charlotte dryly replied with not a drop of amusement. This wasn't the time for her uncle to try being funny.

"Your majesty!" her mother cried out in panic upon hearing her uncle's voice. The fear evident in her eyes. But why? Why would her mother be scared of her uncle? He's always been nice to them, if a bit odd in his own way. Her… her father had said that it was kingship and all its responsibilities bearing down on him.

"Now, now Anne. We're practically family now. No need to be all formal with me." Uncle Joseph said as he knelt down to meet her mother at eye level.

"This is… I…" her mother stuttered, her hands shaking all over the spilt wine. "It was…"

"Don't worry about that. Versailles has plenty of other wine." Her uncle silenced her mother with a dramatic flourish of his hand. "Of course this one was one of a kind. No other like it."

"Please your majesty. This… this was an accident! I didn't…"

"No matter how much you plead; there just isn't any second chances with this brand. It certainly won't un-spill itself." Uncle Joseph said in a… weird way that only her uncle did. With that, he picked himself back up and looked over to her. "Now, Charlotte, you should take your mother back to her room to rest a bit. Okay?"

"O… okay!" Charlotte nervously replied, off put by her mother's evident fear of her uncle. "Is… is mother in trouble?"

"No, no. Of course not. I think she's just a bit tired after all this." Uncle Joseph reassured her with several shakes of his head. Directing his gaze over to Percerin who was trying his best not to attract attention, her uncle said "Hmm… Percerin was it? It's probably going to be your last job before you're fired for this fiasco but you'd better help out. Else I'll have my guard kick you out. Literally of course."

"Yes your highness." Percerin immediately replied in a louder voice than usual, bowing as deeply as one could before the king. He then knelt down and grasped hold of her mother, gesturing for her to assist him in lifting her mother up.

"Oh and Charlotte." Joseph called out as they began to leave, mother held firmly in their arms.

"Yes?"

"You take care now." Her uncle said, waving them farewell before quietly adding "You never know what dangers might lurk in this massive palace."

Her mother noticeably flinched in their grasp but didn't otherwise respond. Charlotte gave her mother another worried look but she just looked away, avoiding meeting her eyes. Looking over her shoulder, she waved farewell to her uncle, still smiling at them. The circle of knights opening to let them pass and the rest of the crowd mutely stepping aside.

And as they retreated back towards their apartments, Charlotte could only at what had just happened there.

* * *

 **And done. A lot longer than the original one I uploaded. Please review. I'm open to criticism as long as it's, you know, actual criticism. I would like to improve my work, since I know I'm far from all that great of a writer.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Got stuck in constant rewrites, finally decided to just stick with one. Hopefully next one won't take as long.**

* * *

The journey back to their apartments was a silent one. Charlotte led her mother, drained of all will and energy, by the hand down the long and empty hallways. Trailing behind them was Percerin, his earlier confidence giving way to a more nervous and almost sheepish attitude. Which she guessed was because mother was definitely going to growl at him when she gets better.

When she gets better; the thought prompted Charlotte to give her mother one more worried look. Eyes lifeless and lost, shoulders sagging and dress rumpled; nothing at all like the mother she was used to seeing. She would get better eventually. She had to! But whatever happened at dinner really, really…

What did happen at dinner anyway? So many unexplained things happened, not just at dinner but ever since she summoned Miss Ciaran. There were just so many questions left unanswered. What was in that goblet that made mother and Percerin nearly fight over it? Why was her mother so nervous throughout the day? What was Percerin even doing at the dinner anyway? She remembered mother telling him to keep watch outside the apartment and she could never have imagined him disobeying an order.

As these questions chewed away at her, she barely noticed that they were already nearly a third of the way back. And it was around this time that mother began to have life breathe back into her. Her steps were more solid and confident, her head began to lift back up, an angry fire burning in her eyes and finally, mother silently shook off her guiding hands and took the lead. Mother was burning with fury.

Charlotte quietly stepped back to allow her mother to take the front of their small group. Not because she was scared of mother when she was angry. Definitely not. Her mother rarely got angry; she was almost always calm and patient. In fact, she had only ever seen her mother this angry once before and that was a long, long time ago. That time, her anger was directed at her father. He ended up sleeping in their carriage that night and she remembered bringing him a blanket because it was cold outside. He never did tell her what he had done. But that was then and this time, mother's anger was pointed at someone else and she had a really good idea on who it was.

' _She told you…?'_

That was what mother had said to Percerin at the dinner as if it was some really big surprise. Well, actually mother had said a lot of stuff to Percerin but that one stuck to her the most. Percerin had been left behind at the apartment and the apartments out-of-the-way of everything else in the palace. The only person that should be near him and could tell him something had to be Miss Ciaran right? Oh, actually their guard was there as well wasn't he? But he's a guy so he didn't count.

So Miss Ciaran had to have told Percerin something to make him come all the way down to dinner. And that something definitely had to do with whatever was in that goblet. And she still had no idea what was even in the stupid thing! What did they usually put into goblets? Wine and drinks. But her mother and Percerin wouldn't be fighting over something a little as a wine or something right? Plus, Percerin spilt it anyway and mother 'lost'.

She involuntarily shivered as a chilling thought occurred to her. What if it was poison? You put poison in drinks and poisoning certainly wasn't unheard. That would mean the drink meant for mother or her was poisoned and would explain why Percerin tried so hard to get it. It was so mother and she wouldn't be poisoned!

But then that didn't make sense. If it was poison, then why did mother try to stop Percerin? And how did Percerin know it was poison in the first place? Well, Miss Ciaran probably told him but then how did she know of the poison?

Mother told her. That had to be secret she told Miss Ciaran when she sent her out to fetch some water when Percerin could have done it. But if mother knew it was poison… then why did she try to get to it first? Or rather, why was she so upset that it was spilled?

It was to her great annoyance that she realized she had come around in a full circle and was still no closer to any answers. That annoyance grew to the point where she wanted to bash her head against a wall when she realized they were at the entrance to their apartment. The guard giving them a salute.

"Sir Treville, were you in on it as well?" Mother asked in a tone that was way, way too polite.

"I beg your pardon Madame?"

Mother sternly met his gaze but the guard didn't even flinch. After about a minute of an intense staring match, mother sighed and ordered "Never mind. Just… just go with Percerin and prepare a new luggage box. It needs to be big enough to hold a human. And be discrete about it as well."

"I understand Madame. I will get straight to it when my relief arrives." Understanding the dismissal, he was given, he bowed out of the way. Though mother couldn't see since she was now behind the guard, Charlotte did manage to spy the guard's stoic expression give way to one of intense relief from getting away from trouble with mother.

Mother didn't even bother with a reply as she pushed the door open with way more force than necessary. Charlotte narrowly slipping in the gap and turning back just in time to see her mother slam the door in Percerin's face, locking their butler outside.

Within the room, Miss Ciaran was no longer on the bed but sitting at the table. Her fingers delicately tracing along her familiar's golden blade. And before they were even in the room, Ciaran was already eyeing them with dull golden eyes.

"How was dinner?" Miss Ciaran innocently asked.

"Oh I know." was her mother's curt reply. Circling around the table to stand over her familiar, mother demanded "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Miss Ciaran unflinchingly met her mother's glare. Her face betraying no emotion. And then in a low voice, so low she could only barely just hear it. "I ensured your daughter still had a mother."

'Ensured I still had a mother...?' What did she mean...? Charlotte gasped. If… if it really was poison in that cup and mother knew that… Mother wanted to get to the cup first… and Miss Ciaran sent Percerin to stop her… but that would mean… "Mother… were you trying to… were you trying to ki- "

"It's not like that!" her mother loudly rejected the very idea. Forgetting about Miss Ciaran completely and racing back over to her, she reassured "I… I was just trying to protect you!"

She… she wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe her mother. That she hadn't just tried to poison herself at dinner. But all the things that didn't make sense, what Percerin and Miss Ciaran said, the way mother just reacted to her…

"Were you trying to ki… ki… poison yourself?" Charlotte stuttered out, facing her mother with pleading eyes. She wanted to know. She needed to know.

Mother began to speak. Nothing but silence came out, whatever words she might have dying out in her mouth. She shook her head, tested her tongue before turning away from the question. Unwilling to give her a straight answer.

Chest aching, Charlotte nodded slightly to herself as she resisted the urge to rub at her teary eyes. Well then… if mother didn't want to tell her… "Miss Ciaran. Please tell me what's happening?"

"As you wish." Miss Ciaran acceded.

Mother whirled upon her in an instant. "Stay silent you!"

"Your mother intended to poison herself tonight- "Miss Ciaran began, ignoring her mother completely.

"…Quiet!"

"-and in exchange for doing so; you- "

"Be quiet!"

"-would be spared of attempts on- "

"Shut up!"

"-your own life from your uncle."

"Uncle Joseph…?" Charlotte uttered the name in disbelief. Her uncle was the one responsible for all of this? That… that would explain why her mother was so scared and upset when he showed up! Then all those weird things he was saying that didn't make sense to her was him actually threatening her mother!

And her mother… She was going to di… she was going to trade her life for her. Her mother was going to poison herself to save her. And she was going to keep a secret too! Mother was going to poison herself and di… and die like father! And she wouldn't even know why!

In a bare whisper, "Did you think I want that…?"

"Charlotte… I…"

"Did you think I want that!?" Charlotte shouted this time. "Did you ever even ask me if I wanted you to die for me!?"

"I just wanted to…"

"Well I don't! I don't want you to die!" Charlotte screamed over her mother. "If you die as well…"

Her father was gone. He was never going to come back. It was just her and mother now. But if mother was gone as well… She got chills just imagining it.

"I… I don't want to be left alone." Charlotte choked out before breaking down into sobs.

She cried.

Mother was going to die. Mother was going to die! Just like father had died. Mother was going to die just like father! And then… and then… Then it would just be her. She was going to be…

She felt something grab hold of her and she was then pulled forward, warmth surrounding her as she found herself mushed. Blinking away her blurry eyes, she noticed that mother had come over and pulled her into a hug. "It's okay Charlotte. It's okay."

"It's not okay!" Charlotte wailed even as she hesitantly hugged her back. "You're going to- "

"I'm not going to die." Mother cut off as she pulled in even tighter. "I promise I'm not going to leave you alone."

"But… but… Uncle Joseph…"

"It'll be okay. I'll find a way, I promise." Mother whispered back. Despite the reassurance, Charlotte felt her heart sank at how uncertain her words were. No! Mother was smart, strong, and powerful. She would find a way because she promised!

But what if… "You promise you won't leave me?"

Mother had a really sad look on her face when she replied "I promise."

* * *

Ciaran looked over the two of them embrace each other with sharp eyes. This had certainly gone better than she had predicted. She had expected more anger and indignation. It was certainly there for that brief moment of entry but Charlotte's sudden breakdown drew all of Anne's attention away from herself, for now in any case.

The minutes drew by as they remained locked in each other's arms. She allowed them this moment of comfort before frowning slightly. They should take this time to prepare. If all Anne said was true, then Joseph will soon strike for Charlotte's life. They needed to prepare and act first rather than wait for Joseph to make his move.

Yet it felt… inappropriate to interrupt their heart felt moment, especially as the one responsible for this. But as fortune would have it, she would not need to as a series of short rapt knocks on the door prompted sharp turns towards the door. How very convenient. She may have to thank the guard or servant afterwards for this.

"I… I suppose we should get up." Anne said, nervously so as she drew herself up whilst gently pulling Charlotte up with her.

"Y… Yes!" Charlotte agreed, sounding even worse off than her mother. "We… should probably get the door too shouldn't we?"

"Yes, yes." Anne said in rapid succession. Smoothing out the creases of her dress, she moved to the door in a flurry of short steps. Cautiously opening it to allow only a small gap to see through, "Yes?"

"I've completed your orders Madame." The voice was unfamiliar to her ears. "Shall I bring it in."

Anne glanced back at them, her in particular, before turning back to reply "No. Not just yet. Just… just leave it outside for now. I'll take in myself later."

"As you wish." And with that the exchange was over and the door creaked itself shut.

Anne flicked her hand and the click of the lock echoed. With a deep sigh, she allowed herself to lean on the wall, drooping ever so slightly. Her lips parted as if to speak but the words died in her mouth. Another sigh and this time, she slid down to sit on the floor, back against the door.

Charlotte seemed worried by this behaviour and looked to speak before Anne finally spoke in a resigned voice. "We can't stay in Versailles. It's too dangerous. So we're leaving the first thing in the morning."

Ciaran nodded along with it. But then, "And after that?"

A long pause followed before finally, "I… I suppose we have to do something about Joseph don't we? I don't think he'll just give up."

"Most likely kill him." Ciaran bluntly said. If Gallia followed the usual human laws then Joseph will remain King until he either dies or abdicates and she severely he would willing abdicate without overwhelming pressure.

"Most likely." Anne agreed, slowly nodding with her. "Though I wish it was that easy."

"Do… do we have really have to kill Uncle Joseph?" Charlotte stuttered out. "I mean… I kind of understand why… but…"

Anne eyes softened for her daughter and replied with, "If we didn't have to, we wouldn't." She sighed deeply and began to lift herself off of the ground. "But I don't think he'll just give up trying to hurt us… and I don't want you to live the rest of your life constantly in fear."

"But why?" Charlotte blurted out. "Why does Uncle Joseph want to kill us? What did we ever do to him?"

Anne hesitated and seemed to deeply think her answer over before replying with, "I doubt it's anything we ever did to him but rather what we could do to him."

"What do you mean by that? What could we ever do to him? He's king!" Charlotte objected.

"Remember your grandfather? Before he died and Joseph became King?" Anne urged her daughter. "Everyone was expecting him to defy tradition and rewrite succession laws to make Charles King rather than Joseph. Many were upset when that didn't happen and even now, I'm fairly certain, that Joseph is nowhere near as popular as Charles was."

"But what does that have to do with us?"

"Perhaps he fears some still prefer an Orleans on the throne rather than him?" Ciaran softly replied when Anne deigned not to answer, unsure how to properly place it. Expanding on that, Ciaran continued, "Thus murdering your father is not enough; he must rid of you so your late father's supporters don't rally around you."

At the mention of the murder Anne very visibly grimaced and turned away, uncomfortably shifting on the spot as surprise and horror dawned on Charlotte's face. In an astonished voice, Charlotte exclaimed "Wait, what!? Uncle Joseph murdered father as well? Then that hunting accident was…"

Really? _Hunting Accident_? Twas such an old, classic excuse of hiding away an assassination as an accident that she was somewhat surprised that Charlotte hadn't put it together herself. In addition to that she gave Anne a quizzical look; had she really never explained this to her daughter beforehand?

"Yes… Joseph was the one responsible." Anne morosely told her who gave her full-eyed attention. "I've had suspicions for some time now but I was never certain until he confessed as such yesterday… when we made our agreement."

"Is… Is he really that afraid that I'll try to become queen?" Charlotte mumbled.

"Yes… I think so. Founder… there's certainly been enough internal conflicts in Gallia's history to maybe even justify it."

Ciaran found herself frowning just a bit. _Founder_? And the way she had mentioned name seemed reminiscent of…

"I… I understand then." Charlotte was shaking, entire body trembling with eyes slowly sealing themselves shut. Whether she was frightened or livid at the revelations, Ciaran could not exactly ascertain. After several moments of shaking like a leaf, Charlotte continued in an equally shaky voice, "If… If Uncle Joseph really is that bad then… then…" she swallowed. "Then we have to kill him."

Anne tenderly placed a hand on Charlotte's shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. Charlotte didn't very visibly react but the slight relaxation of her small frame showed she appreciated the small gesture nonetheless. After several gulps and deep exhalations, Charlotte mustered up the courage to say, "Then how are we going to do it… how are we going to kill Uncle Joseph?"

"I… I'm not sure." Anne confessed. "Joseph has an entire knighthood for these things whereas wouldn't have the slightest idea how to even begin."

"An entire knighthood?" Ciaran repeated as a question. The King has an entire ring of agents at his disposal? They could certainly pose a problem then.

"The Knights of the Northern Parterre." Anne almost spat the name out.

"An odd name." Ciaran noted.

"Not really. The most prestigious knighthoods of Gallia are named after the flower beds surrounding the Palace of Versailles." Anne explained for her.

"Northern Parterre? But there isn't a flower bed north of the palace." Charlotte pointed out, slightly confused herself.

"I suppose that is the point." Ciaran suggested.

"Indeed. The Knighthood that shouldn't exist. I think it's supposed to be symbolic. Ironic that they're more or less an open secret these days." Anne darkly chuckled to herself. "Joseph has a small army of assassins at his disposal. And what do I have?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, still the opportunity was too good to pass up. So with that, Ciaran said in a low voice, "You have me."

At first Anne looked to say something, eyes sceptical, but then they flickered over to over to where her equipment still lay. They lounged over the number of blades and her assortment of other tools before returning to her with a cautious glint. "And who are you exactly Ciaran?"

"Ah…" Ciaran uttered. Should she really divulge such information? There was no substantial reason why she couldn't but also no real incentive to do so currently. Looking upon their expectant and interested faces, she came to a decision. "I was the Blade of Lord Gwyn. Lord's Blade Ciaran."

"Lord Gwyn?" Charlotte repeated as if the name was completely foreign to her. "Who's that?"

"At least our names are a bit creative." Anne could be heard mutter lightly before, in a louder volume, say, "It sounds like a name from the White Isle so… a lord from Albion?"

Ciaran blinked. And blinked again just to make certain. To not recognise the Lord's Blade was a mistake she could understand but to not know the name of Lord Gwyn himself? Impossible. Such blasphemy could not be possible! Even the fringes of civilization knew of the Lord of Sunlight! Unless… no, it could not be true could it? "If not Lord Gwyn, then what of the Witch of Izalith? Nito or perhaps even just Anor Londo?"

Their blank and concerned expressions was all the answer she required.

...She wasn't certain how she should react to this. To not recognise any of the Lords… such a blasphemous offense should not be possible! And yet they bore no malice or trickery on them, just genuine confusion. It was as if they were in completely different worlds.

She darkly chuckled at the thought. Perhaps she may very well have been summoned from a different worlds entirely. It would explain the kingdom that shouldn't exist and their oblivious reactions. But different worlds? Just another impossibility to add to the heap of impossible occurrences.

"A… are you okay?" she could hear Charlotte ask. Her voice hesitant and unsure.

"I am unsure myself." And she truly was not. Was she still able after such revelations? The answer to that eluded her. If her suspensions turned true then she would remain here, trapped, and unable to make her return to Lordran. Eventually, she will perish within this foreign lands, buried, forgotten and alone. A fate she had long anticipated and should be prepared for.

And yet…

"I am not." Ciaran said to herself. Imagining herself dying just like that within this land brought about a deep sense of unease from within. She could neither determine its source or reasoning for such but the answer itself was obvious. "I am not... I wish to return to my world one day."

"Your world?" This time it was Anne. "You say that as if you don't come from Halkegenia."

"That is the point." And 'Halkeginia'? Yet another name she had nothing to put on. "Though I may sound crazed; mayhap Charlotte's summoning brought me from mine world to yours."

"You're right. That does sound crazy." Anne so very helpfully added to the conversation.

"You mean you can't go ever go home?" Charlotte uttered, unnecessarily horrified for something she presumably had no control over. Bowing down deeply, "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"You need not apologize. My life was still saved by your intervention." Being unable to return was just an unintended consequence… or was it? "A question; is it possible to return me to mine world?"

Charlotte didn't seem to know the answer so she looked up to her mother who seemed no less sure. "Yes? No? I've honestly have no idea myself. There's never been a case where we needed to send a familiar back."

"I see." Then it was perhaps not impossible. Most likely, she will have to research and discover the means herself however. She supposed this will be where the Orleans will be most helpful, she wouldn't need to-

"Then I'll find a way!" Charlotte declared, prompting an arched eyebrow from Ciaran. "This is all my fault! So… I promise I'll find a way for you to return back to your world. I swear it."

Ciaran blankly stared at her and Charlotte stared back, wilting slightly from her lacklustre response. Then a hand was raised to mostly muffle the small, soft chuckle that escaped her. It may not amount to very much but she was surprised to hear such from one so young. She was amused and grateful nonetheless for the generous gesture. "Then I shall hold you to your word Charlotte." A determined nod from Charlotte brought a small smile to her lips.

Off to the side, Anne loudly coughed. The feigned type of cough when you wished to attract attention back to oneself. "May we perhaps return to the topic at hand, namely; Joseph?"

Ciaran frowned but didn't contest the point. Her… problem wasn't an immediate issue, one that could be solved with sufficient time, especially now that Charlotte has pledged her aid. She may not be much now but the titles she will eventually inherit puts much value on her.

Joseph on the other hand… Charlotte would be offering little aid if she lay dead, buried in a grave. "...Of course. As the Lord's Blade, my role was to perform espionage and the assassination of all those my Lord deems enemies. Your King Joseph should be no different." She continued as if her digression never occurred at all. "Though I am more concerned with what happens after his death. The assassination of a King will have its consequences."

"Because of course killing a king will cause problems." Anne muttered darkly. "I suppose Isabella will take the throne if Joseph dies… if Joseph dies." She repeated.

"And what are the odds that she'll try to avenge her predecessor?"

"That depends if she knows or not. Though if Joseph dies of suspicious causes, it wouldn't be hard to lay the blame on us." Anne slowly shook her head. "Founder, they wouldn't be wrong either."

Ciaran mused to herself. Removing one enemy to only replace them with another, though his daughter may be less practised that her predecessor. A thought then struck her, Charlotte's father was Joseph's brother. Would that not place Charlotte reasonably close to the throne itself? "Charlotte, how far down the line are you from the throne?"

"I'm second I think." Comprehension soon followed. "You can't mean…"

"Remove Joseph and his daughter takes his place, eager for vengeance. Remove them both and then…"

"No!" Anne sharply cut her off, outraged, almost like she has been dealt an insult. "Joseph is one thing but I won't condone the murder of children."

"Y…yeah! Even if Isabella is bossy, mean and… and nasty to me; she hasn't done anything really bad like Uncle Joseph!" Charlotte reinforced.

"Murder is not the only way to remove her from contention." It would just make it very clear cut on who was next on the throne.

"So… like a coup? But that's treason!" Charlotte objected though it sounded weak, even to her.

"We're knee deep in treason already." Anne offhandedly muttered, caught in her own thoughts.

"That doesn't make it right though."

"No. It doesn't." Anne carefully said, every word measured. Her next words were for Ciaran. "But you may be correct that Isabella will take actions against us if she finds out we're responsible for her father's death. Assuming you do manage to kill him of course."

Stifling the minor annoyance at her ability being in doubt, Ciaran replied, "And the most opportune time to contest the throne would be in the immediate aftermath of Joseph's death. Before this Isabella can legitimise herself as queen."

Anne took her time to nod in agreement. "So we need to decide on this beforehand. With the stakes so high, there can be no half measures."

"But will people even want me to be queen?" Charlotte queried to them, much less of an objection this time.

"Your father had many supporters." Anne offhandedly pointed out.

"And how many would support his daughter in his stead?" Ciaran asked.

Anne shut her eyes, delving deep in thought. When she reopened them she told them, "We will have to find out won't we?"

* * *

Ciaran and Mother spent the rest of the night going over a way too long list of nobles. Of all the names mentioned, she knew only a few of them. A lot of names sounded kind of familiar but she couldn't really say she would be able to recognise them. A lot of parchment was then brought out and letters to various lords were drafted. Percerin scrambling in and out to deliver them before the nobles in question left the palace to retire for the night.

And then the guard came back with the trunk. Mother and Ciaran had a long _argument_ about trying to sneak her out in a box. Or…well, it was not really an argument per se. It felt really tense but Ciaran never once raised her voice and sounded the same while Mother just used that too polite to be normal voice again. In the end though, Mother managed to persuade Ciaran but they would also have to make a short detour to their townhouse first. As Ciaran had pointed out, it would look really weird if she just popped out of a box in the middle of the road.

Charlotte jolted up with the carriage as one of its wheels ran over a rock. Her eyes a bit blurry from dozing off. As she rubbed away at them, she snuck a glance at the other occupants of the carriage.

Mother sat across her, in a new dress more appropriate for travel. Hunched over a bunch of notes and letters with intense focus, she didn't even seem to notice her slight disturbance.

She then turned her head to take a glimpse of Ciaran, immediately swerving back when she met amber eyes looking right back. A moment passes without comment. That… was awkward.

"Is something the matter?" Ciaran finally asked.

"No." Charlotte replied, way faster than she would have liked. "It's nothing."

Nodding, Ciaran turned away and after a few moments, Charlotte snuck another quick peek at her familiar. Looking much better than yesterday, Ciaran had donned an ordinary maid uniform and done her hair in a different style. And though it looked fine on her, it just… it just felt weird seeing her pretending to be a maid.

Her familiar had suggested it too; a disguise that would allow her to always be near them without drawing suspicion since, honestly, her armour would stand out way too much. It was really convenient that she was the age where having a personal handmaiden was not odd in the least.

And it wasn't just her appearance, the cheerful way she introduced herself to the all the guards, the subservient way she acted around her and mother… though she's only known her familiar for less than a day and she knew it was just acting; it was off-putting. Really, really off-putting. It was like Ciaran became a different person overnight. Which... was probably the point of acting, she supposed.

Shaking it off, Charlotte moved her attention to the carriage's sole window to the outside world. Through them, she could see their guards riding alongside the carriage on their own mounts and… not much else really. Past the riders, all she could see was the bare face of a steep slope. Above it was were the forest ended, the shadows of the canopy making it hard to see anything past them.

Slumping back into her cushioned seat, she sighed. How long has it been since they left Versailles? A few hours perhaps? That would mean they would still have most of a day's travel left before they were even half way back home. "Mother, can I go get my book from the b-"

A series of deafening cracks thundered across the sky.

Charlotte instinctively looked out the window only to yelp loudly as the carriage shook as several impacts slammed into its side. Her arms raised up as splinters broke free into the carriage. A flurry of papers floating around the carriage as Mother dropped all of her work and switched to her side, putting herself between her and the window. "Don't look outside!"

Charlotte didn't need to be told twice as she huddled underneath Mother's protective arms as the shouting of the guards filtered into the carriage. Not long after, the clang of steel and explosive sounds of magic being cast filled the air. The screams soon followed, Charlotte pressing herself closer to her mother with each one that echoed to their ears.

There was a bang on the door and mother unwrapped her to draw her wand out. Charlotte peered out and could only see an upper figure of a man, obscured by the curtains. The next bang saw the door pushed in, wood splintering inwards.

A wicked and gruff looking bandit sauntered in, a short axe dripping with blood held menacingly in his hand. He drew it back for a swing as he shouted, "I…"

Charlotte screamed.

There was a flash of gold.

The bandit froze and then wobbled in place, his free hand slowly trying to reach for the thin red line that was growing on his neck.

A gust of ravaging wind then shot past her and slammed straight into the bandit's chest. His corpse sent flying out of the carriage.

"Shut the door!" Mother commanded, the wand in her hand trembling slightly.

Ciaran complied, reaching out with one hand to fit the broken door back into place as well as she could. Her golden blade now brandished in the other. When had she even drawn that?

Door back in place, ajar as it was, Charlotte took another opportunity to glance out the window. She saw only a rock wall that blocked any chance to see the battle around them. That at least explained why they weren't getting shot at anymore.

"Can you see what's going on outside?" she heard Mother ask. Turning back, Charlotte saw both Mother and Ciaran huddled near the entrance, peering through the gap made by the ajar door.

"Not as much as I would like." Ciaran replied. She flicked her blade up. "We should prepare ourselves in the event that we need to fight out way out."

"It can't be…" Mother seemed to whisper more to herself than Ciaran.

"But we had like four knights plus at least twenty soldiers with us though!" Charlotte exclaimed. There was no way that they could all be defeated just like that right?

"And they may yet win the day." Ciaran sent back.

"Damn Joseph." Mother swore, her hands clenching into fists. "And damn you." She pointed a finger at Ciaran. "If you had just left well alone; this might not have happened!"

"Or Uncle Joseph might have done this anyway!" Charlotte shouted just before Ciaran looked to say something back. Mother shot her an angry look but didn't counter.

"It's getting quieter." Ciaran mused aloud and Charlotte listened herself. She was right, of course, there wasn't as much noise now. The shouting and screaming much more apart from each other.

"Someone's coming." Ciaran suddenly announced and Mother immediately aimed her wand back at the door.

"Who is it?"

"Lady Orleans! Are you safe inside?" tired and between heavy breaths, the voice was familiar nonetheless.

"Oh, thank the Founder." Mother let out a weary breath before shouting back, "Yes we are captain! What's going on outside?"

"An ambush Madame." Captain… Treville replied just outside the door. The wood shook as he tried to pull it open before finally succeeding on his third attempt. Peering from behind Mother's back, Charlotte winced upon seeing the captain.

His once pristine uniform was showered in dirt and soot, splashes of red staining it across several different spots. She wasn't sure if that was his blood or not and frankly, she really didn't want to know.

"Think they had a mage among them. Would explain how they appeared from nowhere. Can't tell now yet. Didn't see any magic not from us during the fight." Treville spat at the ground though it was more blood that actual spit. "We got ourselves two prisoners though. One's probably not going to make the next hour and the other still hasn't woken himself up yet but there's that."

"I… I see." Mother said at first. Letting out another deep breath, Mother straightened herself and then asked, "How about your men? How many died?"

"Three dead from the first volley, before I could get a wall up. Four more during the melee, including Sir Louis." Treville lightly tapped at his side, where the cloth of his shirt was ripped and covered in blood. "Don't think any of us came out without a wound though. There were at least like fifty of them."

"Fifty?" Charlotte repeated, Mother echoing her soon after. "So many?"

"Looked like it but we haven't counted the bodies yet." Treville nudged something with his legs and Charlotte had to stand up on her tiptoes to see… she dropped back down immediately upon seeing the mangled corpse of what was probably another bandit. Feeling a bit light headed, she forced herself to focus back onto what mother and the captain was talking about, trying to free her mind from… from that.

"…equipped for mere bandits. Real organized and trained as well."

"So mercenaries then?" Mother inquired.

"Definitely. Expensive ones given all the guns they had."

"Perhaps we can gleam more information from the prisoner." Ciaran suddenly suggested, drawing a look from the captain. Treville then looked back to Mother who nodded her consent.

"Then I'll grab them both here and-"

"Dying one just croaked sir!" a voice called out to them.

"Then I'll grab him here for you to interrogate Madame."

"Yes, please do so." Mother dismissed him. With a salute the captain left their view for about a minute before he came back dragging another bandit in tow, a pair of rock bracers restraining his arms. Once in front of them, Charlotte winced when Treville kicked the back of the bandit's legs to force him down onto his knees.

The bandit lifted his head up to look at them and gave them an ugly sneer. "I know how this is going to go and I'll save us both some trouble. You bitches ar- "

Again, Charlotte winced when Treville smacked the bandit on the side of the head, she could almost feel the impact when the captain's fist connected with the bandit. "Show some respect!"

The bandit recoiled from the blow and his head bobbed for a few moments before it reared up to release a maniacal laugh. "You think a little pain's going to loosen my lips?"

"Do you know the penalty for attacking royalty?" Mother calmly asked him. If she was unnerved by him, Mother wasn't showing.

"Royalty?" the bandit repeated, genuine surprise spreading across his face. "Ah... that bastard set us up!"

"The penalty is obviously death." Mother continued, ignoring the bandit's outburst. "But I am willing to... waive such harsh penalty assuming your cooperation."

"And how do I know you won't just execute me anyway?" the bandit carefully asked, obviously having his own suspicions.

"You have my word on it." Mother swore.

"Yeah and?" the bandit looked at each of them. "What? You expect me to just take your word for it? It's not like you nobles have lied before am I right?"

"You'll have to make do with just that I'm afraid."

"Well then I am not going to talk then." The bandit countered.

Mother bit at her lip before finally gesturing to Treville. "Well I can already hazard a guess to who was behind this attack so... do what needs to be done captain."

Treville grimly nodded and dragged the bandit back by the collar. The bandit seemed to be taken by surprise, "Wait what?"

With practised efficiency, the captain drew his blade and levelled it the bandit's exposed neck. The bandit still spluttering. "I..."

Charlotte turned away just as Treville swung the blade. Her eyes clasping shut when she heard what was probably the blade cutting through the neck. "Is... is it done?"

"Treville. Could you..." She heard Mother say.

"Ah, I'll um... handle the bodies." The captain replied to Mother before shouting, "You three give me a hand with this!"

Slowly opening her eyes, she was relieved to see the body had been taken away and no longer in sight. Glancing to her Mother, she saw that she was a bit pale herself. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Mother shook some of the chilliness off. "This isn't the first I've had to do this though usually it's not so close up."

"A pity he would not talk though." Ciaran spoke, having stayed quiet up till now. Directing her next words to Mother, "I resume you did not want prisoners."

"Why does it matter? Isn't it obvious that Uncle Joseph was behind this?" Charlotte asked after Mother shook her head.

"Confirmation would be nice." Mother sighed. "But I doubt this man knew that much in any case. He seemed surprised when he learned we were royals."

"Indeed. Joseph himself would not be the one giving orders to such groups." Ciaran agreed. "Though I would have liked to learn the identity of the one who did."

* * *

Bishop Plissau frowned deeply as he made his way through the palace. The news had been bad, as he had expected. The Orleans had made their return to their château, few a handful of their number, and the mercenaries Minister Luynes had used were nowhere in sight, presumably killed to the man. If any were taken prisoner, then they must have been given a swift death afterwards.

A true pity honestly. He had no relation with the mercenaries personally, always acting through a proxy, but the mercenaries had proven themselves a very useful tool. Reliable, professional and able to keep quiet when necessary despite their numbers. A quality hard to come by nowadays.

And they had all been thrown away in a wasteful ambush. There were five knights in the Orlean's retinue. All of them formerly from the Royal Army and past friends of the late Prince Charles. In addition to this, there were twenty-five regulars, likely trained and equipped with the best at the Orlean's expense. Against this, the mercenaries had only thirty-six to bear, only a single mage among them. The result had been predetermined from the start.

Reaching the desired door, the Bishop politely knocked the door, entering only when given permission.

"Bishop." the First Minister of Gallia and Duke of Luynes identified him, without even needing to turn his back. A very fancy trick he was still trying to perfect himself.

"Minister." Plissau greeted back, bowing his head slightly. "I have news on the Orleans."

"They killed them all, didn't they?" Luynes dove straight to the point.

"Yes sir."

The parchment in the minister's scrunched up as Luynes clenched his fists. There was a resounding pound on the desk before the minister breathed out a deep, long breath. "I told his highness it wouldn't work. I bloody told him!"

Plissau kept quiet as the minister raged on. It would be... unwise to interrupt and get on the minister's bad side. He had learnt that much from his predecessor. Not all of it unwarranted in any case though one could do without the profanities towards their monarch.

Luynes jerked out of his seat, the chair skidding back. "Come with me. You'll make your report directly to the King."

Plissua narrowed his eyes at the minister. Make the report to the king personally so that he would be the bearer of bad news. That wouldn't be so bad if the King didn't have his... eccentricities.

Nonetheless, there was little he could do but follow his patron's steps. Even while seething on the inside.

The trip itself was a brief one, Luyne's office being not too far separated from the king, and the guards outside allowed them in without trouble. Luyne strode in with confidence and he mimicked his confidence, pressing down his unease.

Only twice before has he been allowed entrance to the king's office, or suite as it should be named. The suite where the King did his own personal work. It had not changed much since his last visit. The same desk and other furniture one would typically expect. The only unique feature was the massive map table of all Halkegenia that dominated an entire section of the suite. It also just so happens to be where King Joseph was standing over at.

"Your highness." Minister Luynes called out, bowing low.

The King didn't reply. Remaing hunched over the map, mumbling something only he could hear.

"Your... highness?" Luynes tried again, traces of uncertainty in his voice.

King Joseph abruptly turned. A jovial smile upon his lips. "Ah! Duke Luynes! Good to see you again. I heard you have news for me."

"Indeed your highness, my aid has news of the Orleans" and with that he nodded and gestured him forward.

The King waved for him to step forward to which he immediately obeyed. "Get on with it then. Did any of the poor idiots survive?"

Plissua hesitated for a flicker of a second. That was not what he expected the King to ask. "No sire. The Orleans brought returned with no prisoners."

The King whistled loudly. "Well that's rather cold hearted of her." He then chuckled to himself. "No matter. They were meant to die anyway."

"I... was unaware of that your highness." Luynes said in surprise.

"Yes well that's because the attack needed to be as authentic as possible." King Joseph casually explained. "I had a feeling that you'd be less careful if you knew all of your men were meant to die."

"I... see your highness." Luynes ground out. "May I inquire as to the purpose of this then?"

"Purpose? Why to send a message of course." King Joseph said like it was obvious. "I can't have Anne thinking I'm not actually going to follow through on my threats." He looked at their perturbed faces. "Did you think I thought they could actually kill them? I mean sure, they had a chance but given the odds; it was never much of one."

"It was a rather costly message your highness." Plissau cautiously said. They could be replaced, yes, but quality mercenaries were expensive nowadays.

"Which is why it also doubles as a red herring." King Joseph said with a smile.

Red herring? "Do you perhaps have another plan in mind your highness, whilst their guard is lowered from their victory."

Plissau resisted the urge to react as the King slapped a hand onto his shoulders. "Well aren't you a smart one Bishop Plissau."

"I was not aware of such plans your highness." Luynes injected himself in.

"Of course you weren't. I didn't tell you because you wouldn't try with the first attempt remember?" Joseph spun back to the minister. "But since you're already here, tell me." He leaned in close to Luynes with a wicked smile. "Do you still have that phsycho sword of yours?"


	3. Chapter 3

**I have raised this back from the dead! In truth though, I don't like the way this chapter panned out. It sets up a bunch of stuff I need to happen but it just itches at me for some reason. I might rewrite this at some point. Still, at this rate; I'll be done by 2020.**

* * *

The rest of their journey went undisturbed. No more ambushes awaiting them along the road. Still, precautions had to made and so Treville had sent some of his men ahead as scouts. Alongside having to slow down to accommodate for the wounded; they arrived at the Orleans estate the next day, just as the weary sun began to dip beneath the horizon.

The chateau was about what one could have expected from royalty. Built of creamy white bricks and steel tinted tiles, it matched the architecture of the palace in quality if not the quantity. That was not to say it was small, rather it was quite doable. A quaint courtyard with a swan fountain made for its front. Whilst she could not spy the back, she would assume it matched the gardens to its sides where the path between the flowers and hedge formed the Orlean's flower, Fleur-de-lis she's been told.

A full complement of servants awaited them just outside the iron-wrought fence that encircled the estate. No doubt informed of their later arrival and circumstance by one of the scouts. With stretchers at the ready, the wounded were the first to be shipped into the estate whilst the remaining servants began to unload their luggage. Anne had been directing their efforts at the beginning but quickly passed the role down to Percerin and made her excuses to enter the manor, Charlotte in tow.

Ciaran on the other hand remained with the servants, introducing herself to the few that inquired and maintaining all appearances of a new maid eager to please. Once the labour at the front was complete she was set to work across the chateau, memorising as much of the interior and exterior as she could as she went about delivering items, cleaning, and such.

Darkness had seeped in and candles were being lit when she could finally pull away. With one hand delicately balancing a silver platter and the other gently tugging at the hems of her dress, Ciaran neared the office where Anne and Charlotte had secluded themselves in for hours. And not for the first time, Ciaran found herself wishing for armour rather than all this... fluff. She considered the uniform comfortable and perhaps even attractive but practical it most certainly was not. Still, it served its purpose and none of the servants questioned the sob story she had fed them. Apparently the late Duke Orleans was well known for his munificent nature.

"Drinks as requested." She said sweetly to the two guards stationed on either side of the door.

The closer one peered at the goblets and jug with furrowed brows, treating the drinks as if they were poison. The second was Treville himself and his focus was homed in on her, his expression quizzical. It would take a several long second delay before recognition and surprise dawned upon him in equal measure. "Y-"

He caught himself remarkably fast, reverting back to a more neutral face as his comrades tuned to him. Tapping him on the shoulder, Treville gave him a knowing look even as his hand crept to the door. Seconds later, she was stepping into a small but adequate office space.

Unlike most of the building, this room seemed to be designed for more practical use rather than to impress. Stacked on the walls were numerous drawers jutting out with parchment and series of maps pinned to the walls. A single window allowing the moonlight in whilst candles arranged in all corners of the room illuminated the rest of the room. Situated just to the side of the window was a grand desk where Anne was currently hunched over, the tips of her finger stained with ink while Charlotte was bobbing on and off a small wooden stool. On both sides of Anne was a massive pile of sheets and letters.

The two of them turned as one at the sound her entry just as the door shut behind her.

"Where,"

"You're,"

They both turn and stare at each other, nodding as they agreed to some silent agreement.

"Well,

"I,"

Being the mother, Anne easily stares down Charlotte who sheepishly bows out. Clearing her throat, Anne returns to her and says, "Where have you been?"

"About the mansion." Ciaran could confidently say that she could navigate the entire building and its immediate surroundings alongside identifying the vast majority of its staff by face if not by name.

Anne's eyebrow twitched upwards ever so slightly even as she said in a even voice. "Well then, while you've been frolicking about in the mansion. We've been at work."

"Yep." Charlotte nodded along. "We've been sending letters to literally every noble in Gallia."

"Not literally I hope." Ciaran replied, pausing just as Charlotte did, the girl a bit puzzled. "Joseph does count as a noble does he not? And there are must certainly be nobles that do like him."

"Oh right." Charlotte nodded a bit sheepishly. Then puffing her chest out, she made sure to clearly say. "Well obviously Joseph doesn't count."

"You don't need to worry about that, I've filtered out those nobles that aren't... agreeable." Anne said, struggling to find a proper word that didn't sound too insulting.

"These letters are discrete of course?" Ciaran questioned. The last they needed was one of the recipients to run to Joseph screaming about their treason.

Anne's frown somehow managed to grow even more sour than usual. It was clear that her question might not have been the best to ask. "What do you take me for? Of course I wouldn't send someone a letter saying 'do you want to overthrow Joseph with me'." Anne flicked the top letter off and served it to her with a light toss. "All they are, are just invitations to talk and the like. Nothing incriminating if they're intercepted."

Ciaran gracefully caught the letter in one hand. Gold eyes skimmed down its contents, reaching the first line before she had hit a snag. The Gallian language appeared to consist of lines of squarish runes. Though it reminded her of some long dead dialects, this was not a language she knew. "I cannot read this."

"Oh?" Anne seemed genuinely taken aback by this before quickly recovering. "I thought you were literate."

"I am." Ciaran responded to the implied insult by brushing past it without regard. "But this is not one of the languages I know."

"How many languages do you know?" Charlotte suddenly asked as she liked to do whenever something caught her interest.

"A number." she replied, the true number a bit lost to her as well. There were a number that hadn't been in use for millennia now and she wasn't certain if she could actually still use it properly.

"Do you enjoy giving vague answers all the time?" Anne asked, not a very serious question.

"Perhaps." was her reply.

Anne pouted even as Charlotte giggled. Putting her aside, Anne slipped out a clean parchment and began to scribe upon it. "I'll set up someone to teach you."

"A teacher for a lowly maid?" Ciaran asked. "I am not ungrateful but would that not appear suspicious?"

"Why?" It was Charlotte that answered. "We do it all the time."

"It's not too uncommon for a noble to train their staff to read and write." Anne mentioned offhandedly. "Charles did go a bit overboard with it though. Personal teachers to teach a class of servants. They'd all still get paid while they learned as well."

"Generous." Ciaran commented.

"He was." Anne mused her agreement. "I doubt many will see anything wrong with me continuing in his footsteps."

"Then I thank you." Ciaran earnestly told Anne. Having a trained teacher would be a great boon for her.

Anne swelled her chest up. "Well we can't have you needing one of us to read everything to you." Her mood quickly deflated as more serious matters came to mind. "And speaking of that. This entire idea, plan, hinges on you killing Joseph. I want there to be alternatives."

"A wise decision." Ciaran agreed. Though she was confident she could assassinated the king, "It never hurts to have contingencies."

"So you mean we need to have another plan in case you fail?" Charlotte repeated before looking to her. "What happens to you then if you fail?"

"I imagine I'd be dead." Ciaran told her the truth. The alternative was capture, torture and then execution. Honestly, she'd prefer to die in the attempt than have a slow and delayed death. It would save her a great deal of trouble.

"Well that's not good."

"Indeed," Ciaran nodded. The idea of dying while trying to kill a mere human king; she shook her head. She did have a reputation to maintain after all. Turning to Anne, "I assume you've already made plans?"

"The Knights of the Red Rose." Anne named, flicking through her sheets until she found a specific one. "Led by Lord Batz de Castemorre. I am almost certain I can count on their aid."

"I recall you mentioning them the other day." Ciaran said offhandidly, referring to the night spent planning in the palace. "They were the ones your husband patronized no?"

Anne nodded her affirmative and gestured vaguely towards the door. "Charles was generous towards them and half our knight guards came from them, Treville included.

"But aren't the parterre knights meant to be loyal to Joseph?" Charlotte put out.

"The loyalty of the Parterre knights lie with the king." Anne conceded. "But some could make the argument that Charles was meant to be king. And the Red Rose themselves are out of favour due to their association with Charles."

"I recall you saying there are three such knighthoods. Four if you count that non-existent north one." Ciaran asked. "What of the other two then? Can they be of any aid?"

"The Knights of the White Lily are firmly with Joseph I think. Lord d'Athos has always held a strict loyalty to the throne, no matter whom may occupy it." Anne shook her head in exasperation as she continued. "Any my only experience with Lord d'Aramitz is that he's a womaniser. That and the Knights of the Blue Lilac usually operates on the border with Gallia along with the Royal Army. It is not often they interfere with civil politics."

"So that means it the Red Rose against the White Lily?" Charlotte summarised.

"I don't suppose the Red Rose outnumber the White Lily?" Ciaran asked Anne, not expecting a positive answer.

"Unfortunately not. All three of them only number a hundred or two at most." Anne tapped her forehead with a finger. "Actually, I believe the Blue Lilac has about fifty or so more knights than the others."

A pity but she supposed that it could have been worse. A ready small army was better than none.

"What about the Royal Army?" Charlotte suddenly suggested. Seeing interest piqued, she added on, "There's got to be at least a few hundred soldiers who'd help us."

"Probably." Anne tentavily agreed. "But I don't have the authority to order around the army and I doubt people won't notice me raising levies or hiring mercenaries enmasse."

"But you also don't have direct authority over the Red Rose Knights either." Charlotte pointed out, being more insistent than usual. "Couldn't we do the same thing with them to the Royal Army?"

"I'm not sure. Lord Claville is the commander of the Royal Army. Unfortunately I barely know more than his name" Anne admitted, crossing her arms thinking. "I doubt we can keep any type of secret between a few hundred common soldiers however."

"As opposed to a few hundred Knights?" Ciaran put out. "And you need not turn the entire army. Just the top of command should be sufficient."

If the Gallian Army was any good then their soldiers can be relied upon to follow their officers. They didn't need the entire army but even a few hundred swords would make a persuasive case in Charlotte's favour. So long as they aren't given blatantly traitorous orders; the soldiers will follow along and not be aware of a thing until afterwords.

"That is..." Anne paused and reconsidered her words. "Very well. I'll consider talking to Lord Claville. See how he stands though I'm not sure how he'll respond."

The last bit seemed directed at her rather than Charlotte but the girl seemed to beam in satisfaction nonetheless. About a second or two later, her bubbly attitude faded into a more mellow face. Almost as if she just remembered they were plotting a violent coup.

"So how do you plan to use these knights?" Ciaran asked Anne, bringing them back on topic.

"I've personally no mind for these things. So I'll leave the finer details in more capable hands." Anne confessed unabashed. "But I'm certain you can guess what I'm planning with a detachment of knights."

"You're going to attack the palace?" Charlotte voiced for her.

Anne grimly nodded. "I'm hoping to storm it right after kill Joseph. Hopefully we can take advantage of the confusion and take control."

"And should I fail?"

"Then we'll deal with Joseph ourselves." Anne put out. "Though I'd rather not have it come to that."

"Because it'd look bad?" Charlotte tried.

"So there is no king for the palace to rally around." Ciaran put out.

"A bit of both." Anne told them. "There's bound to be more confusion if Joseph's dead but I would rather he be dead before we storm the place. The difference is minor but publicly murdering a king presents a poor image. Vile as he is, his stature demands a trial and execution. I'd rather not have to deal with that."

"And then what of Isabella?" Ciaran brought up. "As you are unwilling to let her die, how do you plan to deal with her?"

"Well excuse me for not wanting to murder a child." Anne almost exclaimed. "And I believe imprisonment or exile should suffice."

Ciaran restrained a frown from breaking loose. Allowing Isabella to live will almost certainly create difficulties in the future, imprisoned not. The line of succession was quite clear cut leaving little in the way of ambiguity. So long as Isabella lived, one could always make an argument against Charlotte's legitimacy. "A pity Joseph had a child at all."

"Because then I'd be first in line?" Charlotte looked to her.

"I suspect we needn't take the palace at all if that was the case." Ciaran replied and drifted off into speculation. "Just make Joseph's death an accident and the throne will just fall upon you with none the wiser." She lightly sighed, blowing wistfully. "I don't suppose there is something that could 'boost' you above Isabella?"

It had not been a serious question. Charlotte may have taken it as such though, the girl slowly shaking her head after taking a moment to ponder the question.

However it was Anne's reaction that caught her strict attention. Rather than dismiss it as a fantasy, Anne leaned back, eyes wide as if just struck with an epiphany.

"There is isn't there?" Ciaran softly accused, directing her eyes to Anne.

Charlotte looked to her and followed her gaze to her mother. There was a brief flash of confusion before comprehension settled. The girl surprisingly sounded more disappointed more so than anything as she said. "Mother..."

Anne lifted her hands in mock defence. "To be fair, I had intended to tell you about this. It's just with all this happening, I haven't the chance."

"Another secret you've been keeping?" Charlotte asked her, still not a flare of anger just more disappointment.

"Both me and your father had agreed that it was for the best. We were planning to tell you when you became of age." Anne protested in her defence. "It's all be derailed now though."

"What is it then?" Charlotte directly asked, done with beating around the bush.

Anne unwillingly hesitated for just a moment before uttering. "It's the Void. Your magical element is the void."

* * *

Charlotte became still in her seat. Her disappointment and repressed anger ebbing a bit at how easily her mother had shared her secret this time. In its place was now confusion over the casual revelation her mother had put upon her.

"Void? As in the Founder's Void?" Charlotte voiced her thoughts. That was impossible wasn't it? Only the Founder could use the Void. There was no way it could be her element.

"Yes. The very same." Mother paused for a bit before continuing. "Or at least close to the same thing."

"I recall you mentioning this in the palace." Ciaran mentioned.

"I did?" Mother responded, surprised at this.

"You did?" She asked at about the same time.

"Yes. You named me a familiar of the Void as I recall." Ciaran told her mother.

"It must have been a slip of tongue then." Mother muttered to herself.

"Wait, what do you mean close to the same?" Charlotte demanded, dragging the conversation back to her. "Is it or isn't it the Void?"

Mother hesitated and tested some words on her lips before finally deciding on, "We were never sure ourselves. All the signs pointed to you having the same Void but so little information on it exists that we had to rely on speculation most of the time." Mother gestured to Ciaran, in particular to her forehead. "But that mark on your head... which you've hidden somehow, is all the proof we need."

"Really?" Charlotte remarked, trying to spy the runes that should be on Ciaran's head. Just like Mother, she had trouble actually seeing it. She hadn't paid it any attention until now but the runes really weren't visible at all. At times she thought she might have seen a speck of it behind the blonde hair but Ciaran would just readjust a bit and it was gone. "Why are you hiding it anyway?"

"I'd rather not have a distinctive mark for people to recognise me with." Ciaran confessed. Having said that, she lifted her hand and brushed at her forehead to reveal the runes inscribed on her skin. "But more importantly, what does this mark mean then?"

"Myoznitnirn." Anne told them, her deep tone marking the word as important. And it probably was important. Now if only she knew what it actually meant. She was about to put her question to words when Ciaran did it for her.

"And what does Myoznitnirn mean?"

"The Mind of God. One of the Founder's four familiars."

"The Founder had four familiars?" Charlotte asked. This was new to her. None of her textbooks or any of those lessons with the Church ever mentioned the Founder having four familiars. Admittedly it probably wasn't all that important but you'd think someone would have mentioned it at some point.

Mother must have noticed her surprise as she said the next with a small smile. "Yes. It was a surprise to both me and your father as well. It wasn't really a hidden fact but it's barely mentioned in most texts." Switching to a more serious tone. "But these four familiars served the Founder and each of them supposedly had powers that aided them in their duty."

"And what was Myoznitnirns then?" Ciaran asked, interested.

"Myoznitnirn assisted the Founder with his magic."

"Meaning?"

"I have no clue." Mother confessed with a hopeless shake of her head. "There was only one tome that ever mentioned this in passing and it was too vague and broad to truly put a definition behind it."

"But how do I even have the Void though?" She asked. There was no way that she just suddenly got the Void element rather than the thousands of other noble children in the world.

"That, we," Mother grimaced before continuing. "Charles had a theory. You remember your history lessons? How each of the Brimiric Kingdoms were formed by the Founder's descendants and his sole apprentice?"

"Yes." Charlotte nodded along.

"Well you should also know that magic is inherited from the parents. Charles theorised that maybe the Void element was passed down his descendants to you eventually."

Charlotte slowly nodded before she stumbled upon a nugget of an idea. If the Void was passed down through the Founder's family then there was no way she could be the first one to get the Void element. It's been at least like six thousand years since his time. Between then and now, there had to be at least like... sixty void mages right? "But wouldn't that mean there should have been other Void mages? Why haven't I heard of them then?"

"I have no idea." Mother confessed. "Maybe they all wanted to keep it a secret?"

"And why would that be the case?" Ciaran asked her.

"I suppose the Church may take offence to it." Mother suggested. "They do maintain that only the Founder could use the Void."

"Is it bad then that I have it?" Charlotte asked, a bit worried. If only the Founder could use the Void then her having it... would that make her a heretic?

"Does it matter?" Ciaran responded. "Am I correct in understanding that being the descendants of this Founder is how the royal family casts itself as legitimate?"

"You are."

"So you wish to use Charlotte's connection to the Void as proof that she is closer to the Founder than Isabella?"

"Romalia won't like that." She muttered. She was still a bit new to politics and stuff but even she could see that the Romalians won't react well.

"They won't." Mother agreed with her. "But all they have is words as their weapons. They wouldn't dare encroach upon you."

"Especially if Charlotte is the Queen of Gallia." Ciaran added along.

"How do I even prove that I'm a Void mage?" Charlotte asked them both. "People won't believe me just because I said so."

Especially since all her failing all her spells could be dismissed as her just being bad at magic. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she's heard people whispering about it behind her.

"Could you not cast some spells exclusive to the Void?" Ciaran innocently asked.

"The thing is that I can't cast any spells." Charlotte muttered in a low tone, a bit downcast at remembering her ineptitude with magic. She at least now had an explanation at why she was bad at normal magic so it did lessen the sting. Only by a bit though.

"And there isn't exactly any convenient spellbooks to learn from." Mother added on before she suddenly snuck a look to the wall safe she knew was hidden behind that painting of her great grandfather. Standing up, she strode over to the painting.

"You have something in mind?" Ciaran asked, stepping aside to allow her mother to pass.

"...There is another theory that Charles had about had." Mother said as she reached the painting and began to reach for its edges. "Could you please give me hand with this?"

Ciaran nodded and went over to her side. Together, the two women lifted down the painting to reveal the small metal safe built into the wall. "Of course there's a safe hidden behind a painting."

"The original architect wasn't a very creative man. He stuck to all the clichés." Anne remarked with a light smile. "We also have a hidden room behind a fireplace."

They had a secret room behind a fireplace? She guessed she didn't know the place as well as she thought. Her mind flicked through all the rooms in the château. There were only like four of them. She could probably ch-

"Charlotte. Don't even think about it." Her mother suddenly called out even as she was busy opening the safe. "No one's been in it for at least a decade now. It's probably not safe."

She jolted a bit at being caught out so fast but quickly calmed and put on her best normal totally not lying voice. "Think about what?"

"Oh you know what I mean." Mother said with a roll of her eyes. Blue eyes lit up when the safe door finally swung open. Blowing out some dust, Mother reached in and gently pulled out a... incense burner?

"An incense burner?" Ciaran identified aloud. "Dare I ask it's purpose?"

"It's the Founder's Incense Burner." Mother told her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's it's name not it's purpose." Ciaran responded as the two of them returned to their original positions.

"Well, to me and Charles. It just burns incense like normal." Mother explained, settling the artefact down on the desk.

"But...?" She prompted her mother.

"But Charles thought that maybe only a Void mage could use it. That the incense burned would maybe give the Void mage some vision or something and that to everyone else, it would just be normal censor." Mother sniffed. "It smelled incredibly bad last I recall as welll."

"Where did you even find this?" Charlotte asked. The Incense Burner of the Founder himself? "Shouldn't stuff like this be in the vault in Versailles?"

"Ah." Mother uttered, as if caught out. In a small voice, almost a whisper, she replied. "Charles may or may not have stolen it from the palace."

"And no one will notice it's disappearance?" Ciaran asked.

"No one ever uses it anyway." Anne countered. "And even when me and Charles used it; it was just a normal censor.

"But it might be different if I used it?" she asked her mother.

"That was your father's theory." Her mother hesitated. "I'm truthfully not certain what will happen."

"It may be nothing and this just happened to be an incense burner that the Founder used." Ciaran suggested.

"I'm not sure which one worries me more then." Mother muttered to herself. "I'm actually starting to regret bringing this out as well."

"Well I want to try it." Charlotte announced before her mother decided to throw it back into the safe.

She'd admit she was a bit nervous about this but if she really was the Void mage and this Incense Burner thing really did work... She honestly had no idea what it would do but the Founder wouldn't make something that hurt the user right? There's no reason to make his own incense burner a trap. That meant there had to be a use for it.

If it worked then she'd be helping out and may even learn how to use the Void. If it didn't? Well... she'd probably be a bit disappointed but no one would be hurt right? There was nothing to lose with just trying it.

"Are you absolutely sure Charlotte?" Mother asked her, a trace of concern in her voice.

"Well you already brought it out. That meant you wanted to me to try right?" Charlotte answered back.

Off to the side, she could have sworn she heard Ciaran stifle a laugh or giggle. She must have been imagining it though since her face never so much as even moved. Or maybe she was just really good at hiding that kind of stuff. Both were honestly probable true.

Mother must have heard the same thing as she did end up shooting Ciaran another look before giving in. "Very well, just let me get this thing working again."

As Mother went about trying to start up the incense burner, Ciaran had shuffled over to stand right beside her. Leaning down, Ciaran told her. "I suspect that this will probably give you a vision of sorts."

Charlotte looked to her and then back to the Incense Burner just as Mother managed to start the fire. "Because of the smell and smoke?"

Ciaran nodded her confirmation and added. "It's merely the impression I receive however. I could be wildly wrong."

She could see the smoke now, small puffs of smoke tinted a bit with purple. That and she could smell it as well. Her nose wrinkled a bit at it. Mother was right. It really did...

 _"Chief Brimir."_

 _Charlotte startled awake to the name with surprise. She tried to sit up but found herself unable to. She tried to look to her body to see what was wrong. She couldn't. Panic began to take her as she tried to struggle against whatever was stopping her from moving. What happened? She was still in the room and then suddenly-_

 _She almost gasped when she was suddenly standing up. She rose and rose and rose way higher than she could ever be. During the ascent, she managed to get a good look at her body... or the man's body she seemed to be wearing. He had been addressed Brimir? Was... was this the Founder? Had the Incense Burner put her in the Founder's body?_

 _"What?!" Charlotte almost winced at the volume of the voice only to then realise that it had come from her own mouth. The man who had spoken first seemed to think the same, as the robed stranger flinched at the harshness in her voice. In a sudden shift, the voice then continued in a gentler tone."Sorry. What is it?"_

 _"The Elves have been spotted on the horizon." The robed man gestured across the endless desert that they seemed to be in. Following his hand, she could see a noticeable host of dust being kicked up along with small forms leading just ahead of it. "They'll reach us soon."_

 _"Good. Good." The Founder Brimir... The Founder Brimir said in an almost sinister tone. She could never have imagined him sounding like this. "Maybe then they'll believe me."_

 _"Chief?" the robed man questioned, a trace of worry in his voice._

 _"Go!" She felt her hand wave dismissively at the man. The robed man seemed a bit taken aback by this but nodded and left them. When the robed man was some distance away, having joined a small group of likewise dressed people, she felt herself slump down, resting her back against something hard. Maybe a rock or something?_

 _"My son... if you're listening to this," The weary voice said before he suddenly grunted and shifted a bit forward. The next words were frenzied, sounding almost like the ravings of a mad man."No. No. I'm still lucid. I need to, I have to!"_

 _Charlotte could feel her heart pumping as the Founder took a long breath. Or was it really her heart? She still wasn't sure what the heck was even going on here? All she knew was that this was probably the past and that the Founder apparently was on the brink of madness or something._

 _"My son." The Founder repeated. His voice so quiet that if she wasn't literally him she would never have picked it up. "I'd make a joke but I fear that I haven't much time."_

 _The blond man wearily sighed and leaned a bit forward, her legs being pulled up closer. "I don't know how much time I have left. It's been a while since I had this much clarity."_

 _Her gaze turned to reveal the entrance to a massive cave that was built into the mountain. The mountain itself was a dry reddish colour, nothing really out of the ordinary. It was the cave itself that fixed her attention. All the sunshine told her it should still be sometime around noon and yet the no light shone could penetrate the fathomless darkness of the cave. The blackness seemingly sticking to the very walls themselves._

 _"There is Shaitan's Gate. Or Demon's Gate." The Founder barked a harsh laugh. "The name is quite literal though I fear the Elves didn't believe me."_

 _"You remember? When I destroyed the Varyag with a single ritual? Here was where I did it." Again the Founder laughed, a thoroughly unpleasant sound though she didn't know if that was his intent. "It should have been my greatest achievement. Destroying our long foe, finally bringing peace after who knows how many years of running."_

 _The man suddenly screamed, sounding almost like a feral animal. Charlotte gasped as her perspective suddenly shifted to the ground. The man's fist pounding the sand beside him till they were bloody._

 _"Brimir?!"_

 _"Chief?!"_

 _Several cries of worry sounded out. She saw a dozen or so men and women, all of the dressed for battle with staffs and swords. Nearly all of them carrying very concerned faces._

 _"Leave!" The Founder saw nuisances. He saw men and women too scared that without him, they'd be slaughtered by the Elves. They didn't come to him out of genuine concern but rather selfish fear._

 _Except no. These were the best of his tribe. The closest of his followers. They stood by him for years, faced death resolutely at his side. They followed him because they believed. In a choked voice, "No... I... I'm fine."_

 _The Founder swallowed and licked his lips. Looking to each of them in the eye in turn, he ordered. "We'll go in when the Elves are nearly upon us. Just... just wait until then."_

 _Not even turning to check upon whether his followers obeyed or not, Brimir turned his attention back to the censor. Returning to the one-sided conversation as if nothing had happened. "I... I released something with that ritual. Something much worse that even the Varyag. The Elves. They didn't believe me." The Founder unleashed a wicked laugh. "Oh but they soon will."_

 _"That sounded far more evil than I intended." Brimir quickly muttered right after, each word barely given a space before the next came. "I... I plan to seal it. Or try to at least. I can't kill it. Trust me, I've tried that. It's... It's why I'm like this."_

 _Her gaze was then directed downwards, to a familiar object settled between the legs of the Founder. The Incense Burner lay awkwardly placed on the sand, tilted at an angle. Though it looked lit, she couldn't see a trace of smoke or any trail._

 _"This is a contingency. In the event that I fail." The Founder breathed in a deep breath before continuing. "Each time you light the censor, you'll see another one of my memories. They're meant to teach you how to use to power I've gifted you before I left. The others,"_

 _Again the Founder bent down, she felt a knuckle ram against her head as the Founder reeled from whatever invisible being was attacking him. "Ah... the others... my children, I... they have their own. Their own devices. Just in case. Try theirs if this doesn't work."_

 _The Founder laughed again, this one by far the most genuine one she's heard so far. Though that really wasn't much of a contest. "But I suppose if this doesn't work, you'd never know anyway."_

 _A blasting horn drew the Founder's attention to the distance. Charlotte strained her eyes, or the Founder's she wasn't sure. She has never seen an Elf before but she's heard the stories. Closing upon the Founder was an army of Elven warriors, flying banners she didn't recognise. They were moving across the sand with such speed, far faster than any human army could ever match. It was almost as if they flying across the desert._

 _"I've got to go now." The Founder said with a great sense of urgency. "Vili!"_

 _"Brimir?" A sleek man appeared before the Founder near instantly, almost like he had teleported. It took her only a moment to realise he must have used some sort of magic._

 _"Take this. Take it back to..." The Founder curled down again, a groan of pain escaping him._

 _"Brimir? What is-"_

 _"My children!" The Founder lifted his head and screamed. "Take it. Take it to the second one."_

 _"You mean-"_

 _"Go!"_

 _As the Founder handed over the censor, Charlotte's view faded away._


End file.
